A Much Deadlier Tournament
by NeverGonnaStop
Summary: In the weeks leading up to the first task, Harry took a more studious role in preparing for the coming conflict with a dragon. When he invents a method that results in the Horntails death, the consequences snowballed in ways nobody could have predicted. He could see the reasoning. If your champions steamroll through dragons, it's best to up the difficulty. Bring it on.
1. Chapter 1: Lessons From The Past

**A Much Deadlier Tournament**

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 **Chapter 1**

 **A Lesson From the Past**

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Harry snapped the latest book shut with a grunt loud enough to get him kicked out of the library were Madame Pince wasn't in earshot. Seeing as she wasn't, he only had to contend with the glares of his fellow students.

He must have poured through every book on dragons in the entire castle but only learned better ways to care for or improve the health of deadly beasts, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. The only helpful information he could glean were things he already knew, and unless he found some spell to create corporeal and sentient doppelgangers of himself AND conjure functional wands for them (both impossible feats of magic) then the prospect of having eight other people cast stunners at it alongside him was about as likely as Rita Skeeter renouncing her muckraking ways, picking up a bible, before donning a nun's habit and chastity belt for the rest of her days.

Or would it be a celibacy belt for the non-virginal? Whatever.

Even the killing curse, which he recalled was only illegal to use against other people, took a minimum of six simultaneous casters to take down a dragon. And that was on a good day.

While Moody had been helpful with his suggestion to try and out-fly the beast, a bit more research showed him that this was a STUPID idea on account of it's a motherfucking dragon! As good a seeker as he was, dragons were creatures purely of the sky. He would lose such a contest. Badly.

All those hours practicing the summoning charm and its counterpart had gone to waste. Good thing he learned them so quickly.

With such a rich history of dragons being used in their capacity for war, as referenced in most of these books and Professor Binn's long-winded lectures, you'd think somebody would have developed a simple method for killing or countering them. Just look at the patronus and ridikulus charms! They were solely designed for countering a single creature each, and while in his heart of hearts he preferred dragons to dementors it was definitely a toss up.

Knowing his luck he'd probably run across a World War Two military manual detailing exactly that, along with proper foot care and the mechanisms of a rifle. But only after the task was completed.

Actually that might be a good idea.

He checked the reference cards near the mouth of the library for any books on the great wars and, finding the section where they were at, loaded the nearest table with a dozen volumes from each war. A table occupied by a lonesome Ravenclaw girl.

He recognized her from class. She was in his year, but everyone figured she was a mute, and an ice queen to boot. She was oriental, much paler than even Cho - who somehow managed to keep a light complexion despite being on a house team - and she was dangerously skinny. This coming from him was saying something.

He whispered an apology when he dropped one of the books a little too carelessly, causing her to jump at the noise. She probably hadn't even noticed him setting up shop beside her until then.

He put aside the war specific medical manuals, which he grabbed because why not, and started on the glossary of each book. Thirty minutes later he was back where he started with no mention of dragons. Now he'd have to read them properly or, more likely, just skim through them.

The only thing keeping him from cursing loudly was his reluctance to disturb his classmate's reading. It did look like a rather complicated transfiguration book.

Actually, she might be able to help him. Stereotypes exist for a reason right? And Ravenclaws deserve their reputation as denizens of the library.

"Excuse me." Harry whispered across to her.

She didn't turn an inch to acknowledge him, only putting in the minimal effort to move her eyes from the book to stare blankly at him instead. Creepy.

"Hi, um..." He floundered for her name. "Sue right?"

She gave the slightest of nods.

"I don't suppose you know a spell that searches for a specific word in a book do you?"

She gave him an _'Are you serious?'_ expression and withdrew her wand. He must have insulted her pride with the question.

She tapped the book in his hands three times with her wand and - barely above a whisper and almost impossible to make out - uttered the incantation.

"Sermo revalio, Grindelwald."

She had a very pretty voice. Like a low organ note. Why she hid it so carefully from the world was beyond him.

"Thank you." Harry whispered back as several pages of the book began to glow with a faint blue light.

She gave him that same non-committal nod and went back to her own reading. He supposed she was being rather rude, but he let it pass as she had just done him a huge favor and it was in all likelihood unintentional.

He turned to the first page made blue by her spell and as he did so the glow faded. He found the mention of the long gone dark wizard instantly, it having been highlighted the same blue by Sue Li's spell. It too disappeared when his eyes landed on it.

He repeated her earlier actions with his own wand.

"Sermo revalio, dragon."

That got her attention. She seemed to consider him and the book in his hands, _Wizarding Factions of World War Two_ , and must have decided he was more interesting than living to non-living transfiguration.

She closed the book and daintily placed it on the table in front of her before taking to watching him.

Harry studiously ignored her.

The only mention of dragons in the book was of a group of Romanian dragon riders who had recreated - through supposedly unknown means - the artificial species of dragon known as _Tendrilled Sky Serpents_. They were wiped out by focused artillery fire when the allied forces were tricked into firing on their base.

Good riddance. The mutants were described as being legless and wingless with a long, bulging body covered in venomous, whip-like tendrils. Even the fire they breathed was uninviting, which they spat as a spherical inferno that exploded on impact and seeped into everything like napalm.

The book's use of the word ' _supposedly_ ' greatly concerned him.

He couldn't exactly conjure and operate heavy artillery so he put that book aside and switched to a tome on world war one. He switched back and fourth between books on the two wars, wanting to give equal attention to both conflicts. On his fourth try he struck gold.

In world war one another group of Tendrilled Sky Serpents _(Why do people keep creating these things!)_ was wiped out when the Paris Gun, which itself was so indescribably fuck-awesome that it made his groin ache just reading about it, was fired on their nest and trapping them inside. From there the mutant dragons were killed when pre-planted explosives inside of their nest were set off, releasing...

"Interesting." He couldn't help but say out loud as he closed the book and leaned back in thought.

It was dangerous. Liable to kill both him and the beast, not to mention a few bystanders if he wasn't careful. Yet it was brilliantly simple.

He could make it work.

Remembering the socially stunted girl across from him - again, rich coming from him - who was still watching him intently, Harry pitched another question her way.

"Do you know where I can find a spell on transfiguring or conjuring salt?"

If she found the question odd she showed no sign of it.

Sue Li stood up, turned her back to him and walked away. She made no indication that he should follow her, but he did anyways.

She kept watching him closely as he used the word finding spell on the book she directed him to. Continued to do so as he read and re-read the theory behind it and practiced the wand movement. It was very distracting to be observed so intently when reading warnings about why eating transfigured or conjured salt - which like all things tended to revert back into what they were transfigured from after being incorporated by the bodies processes - was a bad idea.

Good thing he had no intention of eating it.

She clapped when he cast the spell successfully on his first try, turning the glass of an inkwell - the only inorganic thing around - into salt and back again.

She even clapped weird. Instead of a mocking golf clap or silent clapping movement she held her hands together as if in prayer and clapped with her fingers.

What a weirdo.

A quick trip to the charms section equipped him with the other spell he needed and he was on his way outside to practice. He was halfway to the school grounds when he remembered that he didn't put his pile of war books away but was dissuaded from returning to the library when he noticed the obsidian-haired girl was still following him.

"Can I, um, help you?" He asked as rudely as he could manage.

She bowed her head in what might have been an apology and spoke more words in one moment than all the others he'd heard from her over the last three years put together.

"You intrigue me." She confessed. "I wish to watch whatever it is you are attempting to do. I won't be a nuisance."

He was surprised by her lack of an accent. He could have sworn she was foreign-born and raised. At least the rumors said she immigrated to England to attend Hogwarts.

"I promise not to pester you with incessant questions."

Was that a jab? That was a jab.

"Yeah, all right. I think I can trust you not to go gossiping about it. You don't seem like the talkative type." He jabbed back.

Oh. She CAN smile.

Well, it was more of a smirk. But still.

* * *

Sue Li was very tempted to plug her ears to block out the screaming crowd.

The first task had been unbearably boring up until that point, yet somehow the layman around her had nothing but enthusiasm about it. The stupid do tend to be easily entertained, don't they?

Dumbledore, or whoever was in charge of such things, was a fool to put an age restriction on the tournament. The current seventh and upper sixth years of Hogwarts and Durmstrang must have been a pathetic batch because both of their so-called champions had been incredibly weak.

The Bauxbatons girl was at least creative and effective, and strong in her own way. While she hadn't killed the Welsh Green she at least managed to knock it unconscious. She very well could have killed it while it was down if she felt like it. That she got the lowest score of the bunch, when the best Krum had managed to do was anger his own dragon after doing what amounted to throwing sand in its eyes, was an injustice most profane.

Yes. She was strong. If only she had the drive.

Shame she wasn't a Quidditch star. Favoritism seemed to be king in this sham of a tournament. Shy of sleeping with all of the male judges she had zero chance of winning the tournament. At least Dumbledore and her own headmistress had given her fair scores of an eight each, but that was nowhere near enough to overcome the pair of threes and the two she received from the other three judges.

Oh, is that a Hungarian Horntail? Nice. It wouldn't do for Potter to be bored.

He was the only reason she bothered coming to watch. She just had to scratch her itch that went by the name of curiosity. Whatever he was planning would either be a once in a lifetime miracle, or a spectacular failure.

She couldn't decide which one to hope for.

The lady reptile didn't look too happy with the accommodations provided by her handlers and the school organizers. To be fair, the rocky outcropping they chained the mother dragon to looked none too comfortable.

When Harry walked out into the enclosure he looked every bit the supremely over-confident hero that rumors made him out to be.

She regretted her promise to not ask him questions as soon as he got to work a week earlier. Watching him cast third year lightning spells at the lake - creating and igniting pockets of hydrogen in lovely jets of fire as he did so - was certainly entertaining, but what use would that be against a dragon? Especially the weaker version she watched him slowly adapt the spell into.

She couldn't hear the first spell he cast but she recognized the wand movements as a summoning charm. What he attempted to summon was a mystery, but the Horntail wasn't taking any chances. She drove Harry behind cover with her own jet of fire. She had some impressive lungs on her too, because she kept it up for a while.

Harry took this time to transfigure one of the other strategically placed boulders into salt.

Sue half expected it to cartoonishly turn into a perfectly square block of table salt - because Harry Potter - but it was a slower transformation. It started with small fractal salt crystals jutting out at random and ended with an entire slab of multicolored salts, product of the different elements in the rock.

When he let loose a stream of lightning at the block his intentions became clear. A few onlookers even gasped or screamed in horror as the sickly yellow gas congealed into a cloud.

As soon as the Hungarian Horntail paused to take a breath Harry leaped into action, roaring a depulso to the heavens.

What most people don't know about the summoning and banishing charms is how much control over trajectory they give the caster. It took an immense amount of concentration to control the trajectory of something liquid or, in this case, gas. Harry clearly had mental discipline to spare as he directed the noxious cloud into a twisting serpent of death.

He directed it straight into the dragon's mouth and nostrils, forming a dome around its head with the excess just as it took a massive gulp of air to recover from it's earlier onslaught.

What few onlookers had been cheering up until now closed their annoyance-induction-holes as Harry's foe gasped like an asthmatic child. It was a sad, desperate and high-pitched sound. Like a cross between a dog's yelping in pain and screeching metal. The beast couldn't clear its airways of the burning gas and couldn't inhale fresh air with which to clear its lungs with the dome of chlorine around its head.

It crashed to the cold, uncaring stone a few moments later. It was very, very, VERY dead.

Silence rang as Harry walked calmly past his fallen opponent. Bile-colored mist still billowed out of its mouth and nostrils like a smoking bullet casing.

Nobody cheered when he retrieved the faux egg, nor all the while as he walked back out of the arena. To be fair, he didn't make any movement or sound indicating he wanted any. No cry or leap of victory to court attention or praise.

Harry Potter just killed a dragon. By himself. In less than a minute and thirty seconds.

It only took him four spells to do it, although the purpose of that first summoning charm eluded her. It was then that the seeker's Firebolt came whistling into the arena before he banished it back to wherever it came from.

Ah. A backup plan. So three spells then. It took him three spells to kill a member of the deadliest breed of dragons. Three incredibly simple spells that any fourth year could pull off.

The gaggle of dragon handlers, wisely equipped with bubble head charms, rushed in and tried to clear its airways and resuscitate it. Tragically, the magical resistance dragons are blessed with prevents most magic based medicine just as effectively as all other brands of spell.

"Sue? Are you okay?"

Sue turned to Padma. The Indian girl was giving her the oddest look of concern. They weren't friends. Sue made damn sure of that. The sudden familiarity was most unwelcome.

"Your, um... Your face." The more tolerable Patil twin touched her own mouth to indicate what she meant.

Sue mirrored the movement and discovered what was so shocking about her own.

She was smiling. Not smirking, smiling. A full toothy grin stretched her cheeks as far as they could go. It was a strange and uncomfortable position for them to be in.

Sue Li does not smile. Ever. Everyone knew that.

She somehow suspected her smile would become a common enough sight in the days to come, but for now she pulled her scarf up to the bridge of her nose to obscure her face. Most of the crowd with a passing knowledge of Muggle chemistry were doing the same thing, so the gesture would go unnoticed.

Four years of torture were finally paying off. The countless hours she spent learning this gutter language, putting up with superfluous school politics and the sad excuse of a curriculum this institution supplied had all been worth it.

She found him. At long last she found her Lord.

* * *

Author's Notes

This was originally an idea for a one-shot about how Harry could kill a dragon one on one and snowballed into what you see here.

As I tried to come up with a series of events that would lead the Harry of the book to discover this solution I picked a less oft-used character and she developed, in my mind, into the Sue Li you see before you.

 **Regarding Sue Li:**

I did some research into the character and discovered there was nothing canon on her besides the fact that we've been misspelling her name all this time.

As for her character and personality, I was deeply inspired by the Su Li of **Renegade Cause** by **Silens Cursor** which, aside the final few chapters, is one of the best fanfictions ever written and you all need to go read it right now! He also wrote a few one shots about her and Harry that were just lemons...

Still, this Sue is more my creation than a ripoff of his interpretation.

I hope you like her.


	2. On Creating a Tendrilled Sky Serpent

**On Creating a Tendrilled Sky Serpent**

 **A Much Deadlier Tournament - Special**

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 _The following is an excerpt from the eminent magizoologist Newt Scamander's banned and purged sequel to " **Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them** " known as " **Abominable Hybrids and How to Breed Them."**_

 _ **Warning!**_

 _This book and its contents are for Ministry use **ONLY**. Any attempt to reproduce, redistribute or implement practices learned from it is a one way ticket to the execution chamber. This copy is to remain in the Department For Regulation of Magical Creature's secure vault at all times. Only authorized individuals may read its contents, and only then in order to combat an emergency as decided by a vote by the ICW._

 _To reiterate._

 _Owning so much as a page of this book is illegal and punishable by death. You have been warned_

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Of the many artificial breeds of magical beast, none invoke more terror than the Tendrilled Sky Serpent.

If the name didn't tell you as much, they are serpents that can fly despite having no obvious means of doing so.

They can get up to one hundred meters long. They have red scales with a purple hugh and whip-like tendrils all along their body of the same color. Interspersed throughout the forest of instantly lethal tendrils are an array of horns not readily visible.

Most frightening and unique about this creature is its breath, which when sprayed sticks to surfaces like a liquid and is also instantly deadly due to toxicity, assuming the heat doesn't kill you.

Originally developed by a reclusive Indian wizarding monastary, the methods for creating them were kept secret for thousands of years. These monks were renowned for being snake charmers and went by many names, most of which referenced their propensity for creating horrifying chimeric creatures.

The last person with the knowledge to create the one we are discussing died during World War One when the monastary was destroyed and its occupants slaughtered.

In 1936 I was contracted by the newly formed International Confederation of Wizards to help in the war efforts. Among other things, they wanted me to re-discover the techniques for creating such a beast, perfect it, study the resulting creatures and weaponize them.

I wasn't so much contracted as I was forcibly enlisted to work in a Greenland research and development facility. I was granted a full team of researchers from every field, both wizard and Muggle, complete legal immunity and near infinite financial support. All dangerous temptations on their own to any researcher, but together they became a ring of power that entrapped me.

I had more to work with than blurry black-and-white photographs and eyewitness accounts, however.

You see, in World War One I served on the eastern front researching the disappearance of the Ironbelly dragons of Ukraine. Unfortunately, the reason for their disappearance was their skirmishes with a SINGLE Tendrilled Sky Serpent that had escaped into the wild and wound up all the way out there.

It was trying to breed with them. They weren't interested.

Long story short, I witnessed it die at the claws of a pack of females, who like human women, herd during the mating season. It killed a lot of them in the process and the population still hasn't recovered.

It was a glorious battle and, what's more, I had the pleasure of performing post-mortem research on it and it's victims. You couldn't have wished on a genie for a better person to work on this project.

The first two components needed to create a Tendrilled Sky Serpent are also the most obvious. A dragon and a Horned Serpent. The particular breed of dragon is also obvious, as the only one with a serpentine body is the Chinese Fireball, which you are to breed with a flying variety of Horned Serpents. The particular breed doesn't matter, but I chose a red, gemless variant.

Every ingredient after that was discovered either through intuition, deduction, trial and error or dumb luck.

The offspring of their union was healthy and strong, but lacked tendrils, toxic flames or any purple discoloration.

It was when news of a man named Derwent Shimpling, who ate an entire venemous tentecula and survived, reached us that we found another ingredient. You see, Mr Shimpling was turned permanently purple by his meal. Mutated by the plant.

We fed the offspring a diet that included Venemous Tentacula and, on a whim, Murtlaps, them being the only creatures with tendrils resembling that of the end product.

The result of their inbred offspring resembled the Tendrilled Sky Serpents almost exactly. The tendrils were too thick and weren't venemous enough, nor did they have the truly devastating breath we desired. Although interestingly the venom gland inherited from the Horned Serpent had fused with the incendiary gland inherited from the draconic ancestry. So the flames were toxic, just not as toxic as we needed them to be.

Still, it was an amazing discovery for the field of magigenetics. A Venemous Tentacula and Murtlap diet works as an effective mutagen with results reliant upon what else is fed to the subject. And we experimented with this technique on many other creatures to fascinating and horrifying effect, which we will discuss in a later chapter.

We threw that batch away and started over with a new Chinese Fireball and Horned Serpent.

While the second batch of eggs incubated we prepared a new diet for the offspring.

We knew VT and Murtlap was required but we clearly needed another base for the mutagenic effects we wanted. Us researchers from magical birth could not deduce what this third ingredient might be, but the Muggle scientists we worked with could.

When told about the effects of the TSS's breath the chemists amongst them identified multiple compounds that would achieve a similar effect.

The first to come to their mind was chlorine trifleuride, it being fresh in their memory.

It was a chemical developed just recently(at the time) by the National Socialists of Germany, unsurprisingly as a weapon. What is surprising is that the NAZI researchers involved decided it was too volatile, too toxic and too inhumane to use.

I just want to point out, when even socialists tell you a thing is too dangerous or inhumane, you should probably step back from that thing very slowly, and then run away very quickly, preferably while screaming like a little girl.

I still wake up in night terror's with dreams of a creature capable of spraying this substance from time to time, which was definitely not the one we were looking for. It was too superior to the one we needed, and we wanted something biological.

Besides. I wasn't being paid against my will to be an overachiever now was I?

Fortunately, the Muggle biologist on hand knew just the substance we were looking for

Hydrogen Cyanide.

It's liquid, flammable and, in case the CYANIDE in it's name didn't tip you off, is very toxic.

There are several organisms capable of producing it, we went with Apheloria millipedes which we fed a diet of rotting cassava, lima **beans** and almonds because

A - They are foods with high cyanide content.

And

B - We were clearly insane.

And so I reveal to you, dear reader, the entire process for creating a breeding an entire army of Tendrilled Sky Serpents.

Step 1:

Collect 2 Chinese Fireballs(one male, one female) of distant relation, two flying horned serpents(also one male one female) of distant relation, a hundred or so Murtlaps, a hive of millipedes, and grow a garden of Venemous Tentacula.

Step 2:

Breed the pair of Chinese Fireballs with the pair of Flying Horned Serpents.

While the eggs are incubating feed your millipedes a diet of rotting cassava, lima beans and almonds while slowly engorging them to the size of pythons, and later as big as the offspring themselves once they've grown larger.

Step 3:

Feed the Murtlaps, VT and giant millipedes to the resulting offspring.(Keep the two litters separate until they are of breeding age)

Step 4:

Pair off members of both litters and breed them together.

Congratulations!

You now have roughly 7 genetically diverse and sustainable litters of Tendrilled Sky Serpents. Exactly as advertised.

In total the process should take three and a half years.

Have fun. I hope you have a parseltongue handy.

\- Newt Scamander

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 **Author's Notes**

I have been completely blown away by the feedback for that first chapter. You guys have stunned me with your enthusiasm here.

In the first day I received 12 reviews, 32 favs and 58 alerts. I have never gotten that much feedback for my other stories, let alone a single chapter.

Thank you guys so much.

I already have a rough outline for this entire story but I won't be releasing another proper chapter until I update some of my other stories. I have a schedule to keep but you guys really did make this one a much bigger priority than it ever would have been otherwise.

So as a means of placating you all, I typed out this filler chapter to keep your palletes wet. I hope you liked it. Now onto reviews.

But first, a public service announcement

 **PSA**

Her name is **Sue Li** , not **Su Li**. I checked. Every source on Harry Potter says it's spelled Sue, not Su.

The spelling Su Li comes from Rowling's original documents where she revealed the Hogwarts Forty, but taking that as canon is akin to treating unused concept art as canon.

Which we can do. It's fanfiction, and us writers have that freedom.

It's Sue. The website is wrong.

 **Reviews**

 **JC** wrote:

Great work. What were the 3 charms? Seems like his practice one was to replicate dragon fire so he would have only needed 2, salt then banisher.

 **Response** :

The three spells were as follows.

1) Transfiguring the stone to salt

2) A modified lightning charm he repurposed for rapid electrolysis, which he used to split the salt into sodium and toxic chlorine gas.

3) The banishing charm to direct the chlorine gas into the dragon's mouth and nose.

He was using the lightning charm on the lake to split the water atoms into hydrogen and oxygen. The pockets of fire were caused by the hydrogen being ignited by the lightning charm at the same time. It was not dragon fire.

Thanks for writing Jesus. Always happy to hear from you.

To the rest of you who just gave me feedback telling me you liked it, thank you. And don't be afraid to ask for clarifications or to point out my mistakes.

In the next chapter, I earn the **M rating** for this story.


	3. Chapter 2: Girl Problems

**Chapter 2:**

 **Girl Problems**

* * *

After a brief period of shock from everybody in a square mile radius, McGonagall attempted to rush him to Madam Pomfrey for a check up. Even his head of house seemed hesitant to speak to or especially touch him.

She didn't press the matter when he refused her with a glare.

He was pissed.

He wasn't angry for any logical reason, but for purely medical ones. It was only with righteous rage that he managed to keep the bile down at his disgust. He had killed a dragon, and it felt awful. Okay he was a little angry at the professors, especially Moody, who were suddenly re-evaluating him and, in the case of the ex Auror, seemed to be making a threat assessment of the youngest champion.

Actually his reaction made the most sense. Harry secretly appreciated the grizzled bastard's consistency.

It wasn't until the handlers carted off the dragon and declared it well and truly dead that the judges announced his scores.

All tens. Harry may well have just won the tournament.

Some of the less sociable students had started filing out as soon as he touched the egg, either content that they already knew his final score - it wasn't a Sherlock Holmesian leap in logic to suspect he'd won - or to avoid the crowd currently flooding from the stands. He groaned as he made to follow, not at all eager to deal with the back patting, congratulatory pablum and assurances of a fictional past belief in him or his honesty.

Charlie was there to stop him.

"Hey um. Bagman wants a word with with the school champions." He said in an overly polite manner.

The second eldest Weasley had always been so likeable, aside from his snoring, and the sudden Percy-esque shift put him into a tizzy for a whole five seconds as he tried to understand the sudden shift. Oh right. He and the other dragon handlers probably weren't happy with him. It would come as a massive blow to most of them, both personally and professionally, to have lost one of their wards.

Harry hadn't thought of that.

Oh god! Hagrid!

"Seeing as I'm not a school champion, you can tell him I politely declined." Harry said, imitating Charlie's mannerisms. "Or that he can sod off. I don't care."

He took his egg and left, eager to be alone and insult himself for being so stupid.

The sea of students and outside spectators just beyond the enclosure and forming intermittent crowds all the way up to the castle doors parted as if he were the wrath of god as he passed. His anger momentarily subsided as he felt, for the first time ever in the aftermath of a life and death situation, like a complete badass. He tried to fight the feeling back, but failed miserably.

It made sense that people deferred to men capable of single-handedly slaying dragons and basilisks and whatnot, but how long would this last? He didn't get this kind of treatment after dealing with the dementors last year, a similarly incredible feat. Then again, people only heard about that in rumors, as with previous years. The whole world had witnessed his latest one.

He found himself hoping it would last forever. This berth of space, this hesitance to approach him or get in his way, was so incalculably preferable to the usual fawning and hero worship that had been a constant in his life ever since he entered the Leaky Cauldron on that fateful day. It sounded terrible in his head to think it, but he really did prefer fear to idolatry.

It felt like an eternity ago.

He was soon stomping through the corridors of Hogwarts, ducking beneath banister and pushing aside faux walls in an attempt to make a beeline to Gryffindor tower and his four poster bed. Sweet oblivion awaited him and he didn't want to keep her waiting.

It was while traversing one of the dustier and less oft-used secret passages that he finally let his guard down. It was a small hallway filled with broom closets and store-rooms on either side. Despite being only a few strides long and having no incline it somehow connected the fourth and seventh floors. It was one of the best shortcuts to his common room. He was practically home and the stress of the day was beginning to fade.

That was when a pair of unseen hands grabbed him around his chest and yanked Harry into one of the closets.

Harry flinched exactly five times. Once from being grabbed unexpectedly, again at the sudden feeling of soft lips pressed against his own, a third time when he saw the oriental beauty those lips belonged to, a fourth time when he realized it wasn't Cho like he initially thought(and hoped), and a fifth time when Sue went from lightly kissing him to practically eating his face.

It was as she started removing his clothes that he froze completely, unable to flinch back any further as his entire back was pressed against the stone wall.

Sex was... Not at all how he imagined.

For one thing he expected it to be noisier, but no sound besides her hot breath on his face left her slightly parted mouth as she dug her nails into his scalp and locked eyes with him. For another he expected it to feel good, and at some points during the encounter it had, but the initial contact when she managed to push aside - but not completely remove - the offending fabric that had valiantly tried to block their attempts had hurt like hell.

Simply put, it wouldn't go in. So she forced it, and he feared she'd break it in half in his frozen state. What was even more painful was how she moved her hips after he was fully inside of her. He could practically hear whatever cartilage or what-have-you at the base of his member grinding against whatever it was connected to in the groin. Now that hurt. **(A/N - 1)**

He was too terrified to run his hands along her body like every instinct in his body was telling him to do. She was still fully clothed from the waist up, and mostly clothed from the waist down, and he didn't dare risk offending the young witch currently riding him as if he were a rampaging bull by touching her in a way she didn't approve of.

Despite all of this there was something enjoyable, something wholly wonderful in being looked at with such hungry eyes. There was something deeply primal behind those dark orbs that called out to him, that stirred something similar inside of him, but by the time she gasped as her entire body shuddered against his, he realized he had waited to long to give into that feeling.

She kept her face buried into the crook of his neck as she practically broke his ribs with how tightly she was holding him.A few moments later, after the shudders had stopped, she was gone.

She just pulled her panties up, pulled her skirt back down, smoothed out her clothes and left him there to stare at the ceiling in wide-eyed confusion.

He didn't know how long he lay there with most of his shame exposed, but thankfully unseen in the dark, dirty and claustrophobic room. Long enough for his mental faculties to return.

Sex smelled odd. That was his first conclusion. Not bad. Just odd, and definitely pungent. That part at least he liked, especially with the smell of her rose-scented perfume and pineapple lip balm lingering on him as well. Then there was whatever her shampoo was.

Still in a daze, he eventually fixed his clothes, absently pocketing the black pantyhose she had left behind.

* * *

The next week was one of his worst at Hogwarts to date. Or ever really.

He didn't get a wink of sleep that first night, kept awake by a mixture of terror and a strange contentment. The entire ordeal had come as a shock, and smacked faintly of rape. Despite this he was still entranced by the smell he carried with him and fantasies about doing it better next time kept him awake with frustration.

Was there going to be a next time? It had been so sudden and unexpected. She'd left without saying a word and he couldn't even tell if she was enjoying it at the time. Hell, he couldn't tell if he had enjoyed it.

The next morning he reluctantly made his way to the showers to wash the evidence of the event away, knowing he'd miss her smells. He was shocked to discover a smidgen of blood on his sore and raw appendage.

Was it his? Was it hers? Was this normal?

He couldn't find any injury in the area so he assumed it must have come out of one of them, which was a scary thought. Scarier if it was his, to be sure, as there was a very obvious explanation if it was hers. He somehow doubted any girl, even one as terrifying as Sue, would have done THAT to him while leaking the liquified lining of her uterus.

A visit to the library solved his mystery, but did not assuage his growing trepidation.

It was called a hymen. All girls have them at one point, and they usually broke during intercourse and sometimes bled slightly.

That part he understood, what he didn't was the book's insistence that it was supposedly painful and that young ladies should be treated gently, the act taken slowly. Bullshit! This particular young lady had powered right through it and treated HIM about as gently as a nonconformist nail in need of depth readjustment.

He supposed it varied by girl, just like size of certain features on both guys and girls varied, so maybe it hurt less or not at all for some virgins? More likely she just didn't care about the pain. Or she might have - he blanched at the thought - enjoyed the pain.

Then the book reminded him that pregnancy was a thing. That did wonders for his mental health. He was plagued by nightmares of their prospective child for the rest of the week and kept waking up in a cold sweat. In one of these dreams he personally introduced a pregnant Sue to the Dursleys and asked them if she could move in. She did. That one was the worst.

He tried to remember if he had managed to, what the book called, ejaculate but he just wasn't sure.

Then there was the other girls. Just... all of them.

Sure he noticed them before, looked at them the way boys do on occasion, but not to this extent. They were all so much more lithe than he remembered, and their movements seemed so much more sensual. What's worse, he discovered that some of them were looking at him that same way, and that scared him far beyond any reasonable degree.

They hadn't done that before, had they? He liked to think that he was perceptive enough to recognize such obvious interest on the faces and in the body language of women. **(A/N - 2)**

He was thankful for his and Ron's reignited friendship. The taller boy fast became his unwitting body shield, and mas an even far superior cock block than Harry hoped. His manners and choice of conversation topics repelled the fairer sex better than if they'd both been covered in Flobberworm mucus. So did Harry's own shyness, now that he reflected on it.

He even had difficulty being around Hermione! Those things were definitely not on her chest the day before, of that he was certain.

He learned through a late night trip to the restricted section that he was developing what was called Gynophobia. He had seen the book _Phobias and Philias of the Worst Kind_ listed in the library index and just had to retrieve his father's old cloak.

Unfortunately that particular novel was in the restricted section for a very good reason. It was a torture manual, and discussed spells that created vivid illusions and techniques for finding or instilling phobias in a victim, usually by simulating a sexual experience.

 _Traumatic sexual experiences are the most likely to instill a deep seated fear or emotional distress in a subject._

You don't say!

The moving illustrations depicting methods for instilling permanent terror towards insects or glass looked liked something out of a Lovecraftian Cenobite's wet dream. He had a full arsenal of new nightmare material after that.

By the time the Yule Ball was announced that Thursday it was all Harry could do not to walk down the school halls banging his head with a mallet while making his best Woody the Woodpecker impression at the top of his lungs.

It got to the point that Sue eventually walked past him after charms and reprimanded him in her most acerbic tone.

"You're being ridiculous, Potter."

This confused him more than anything else. He couldn't imagine walking up to somebody who had a less than thrilling sexual encounter and telling them _"Get over it, you pussy!"_ which is what her comment essentially amounted to.

He wondered if that's how things were done in the wizarding world. It was surely better treatment than he'd receive in the Muggle world, where fourteen year old boys were regularly forced to pay child support to the teachers who raped them.

He looked into it.

The wizarding world seemed simultaneously more appalled by sex based crimes, and more reasonable in the pursuit of justice on their behalf. The hard stance on love potions and imperius curse were both good examples of this. The fact that there was no Jimmy Saville equivalent in wizarding Britain or the coverup that came with his crimes was an even better one. Hell, magic newspapers even covered the horrors of the grooming gangs in Rotherham and surrounding areas. He'd even seen an article in there boggling at how the Muggle legal system made a distinction between " _forced penetration_ " and " _made to penetrate_ " and didn't consider the latter rape. **(A/ N - 3)**

Harry refused to believe this could be true. Such a fact would make even him sympathize with Voldemort's cause, if only a little. He confirmed it in Hermione's copy of _The Case for Muggle Madness_ and had to put it down after that. Why she still kept a copy of one of her old Muggle Studies textbooks was beyond him. The chapter on Muggle crime statistics was practically a university course in and of itself.

Sue was right though. He was being ridiculous. He knew this, but couldn't resolve the issue on his own.

So he visited Pomfrey.

Oddly she and McGonagall didn't register as Gyno to his Phobia. Age maybe? Comfort in their presence? He was less terrified of Gryffindor's bushy haired brainiac than the other's in his age group after all.

To say she was surprised to see him visit her of his own volition would be as profound an understatement as referring to Snape as an unhappy and unapproachable person. That he was so easily able to lie his ass off to the old witch without once lying surprised him even more than that.

"I just can't get any sleep. I've been having nightmares from what happened after I killed the dragon." He had told her. "I just feel so guilty about it. I'm terrified of the way other people are looking at me. Then there's the pressure from this tournament. And now the ball!"

She melted like putty in his hands. She really was a softy at heart despite her imposing and waspish demeanor. If he was so inclined he could really abuse her hospitality and compassion.

He didn't know why he didn't tell the mediwitch what really happened. Maybe he was scared of Sue? Maybe he was worried he'd get her in trouble?

Deep down he knew it hadn't been rape. He had the power to say no, to refuse her and defend himself. Yet he didn't. It was as much his fault as it was hers. Logically, he knew that. His heart was just being an asshole to him about the whole thing, is all.

The calming draught Pomfrey gave him, with instructions to take a spoonful with every meal, did him wonders. He was finally able to think about things rationally and he tried to figure out why the event had troubled him so.

It was probably just how alien having physical affection of any kind with the opposite sex was to him, or with people in general really. He was remiss to hug even his best friends, let alone kiss someone who was all but a stranger until the day before. And they did a whole lot more than kissing.

He thanked whatever power kept alcohol and narcotics out of Hogwarts so effectively.

Sex was a terrifying and confusing thing all by itself. He was finally starting to understand the host of social norms and expectations foisted upon young men and women. Though initially appearing unfair to both sexes - though in very different ways - he suspected they were all implemented as a matter of utility and safety.

He couldn't imagine how much legal and emotional terror could be wrought if other teenagers had gone though the confusing trial he had with alcohol involved. There would be an epidemic of false, though not necessary malevolent, rape accusations being thrown around. Especially with how less level-headed the average teenager was than him. It would have absolutely destroyed the lives of so many youth, and possibly even the school proper.

He shuddered to think how the situation would pan out in the Muggle world, where most schools were run by public workers. His memory of primary school told him they were just as idiotic as the public workers running this tournament, but with more ideological hangups.

He decided then and there that the Hogwarts zero tolerance policy on sexual contact of any kind was not only reasonable, but a very, very, VERY good idea.

He still intended to break it again as soon as possible, to be sure, but he could at least respect the policy.

Still. Would it have killed her to have stayed cuddled a bit afterwards?

* * *

"The hate mail just keeps coming, doesn't it?" Ron said between mouthfuls.

He was getting better at chewing and swallowing before talking.

"Yeah." Was all Harry could say as he mentally tallied the number of owls paying him a visit this morning.

Ever since the first task his meals had been marred by letters from magical beast lovers and caretakers the world over. He simply couldn't imagine what he'd done to offend them all.

"Charlie's been trying to run interference but his coworkers aren't a happy bunch." Ron explained apologetically. "He wanted to write you an apology letter on their behalf but I convinced him not to."

The addition of his reasoning for talking Charlie down went unsaid. Harry could only nod his thanks. He probably would have responded poorly to Charlie's letter. Or more likely not read it at all, just assuming it was filled with nothing but ice and venom before filing it away with the others. Like Hermione was doing right now.

"A lot of repeat senders today." She told him as she compared the names and addresses on the new envelopes with those on the long piece of parchment in her hands. "But no nasty powders or liquids for a change."

That was a relief. He added them to a paper file organizer Ginny had made for him when he asked if she had one, intent on checking them later for the occasional letter of support or admiration. He didn't used to like it, but proper fanmail had been a great help during his recent near mental breakdown. He had considered bringing the more nasty letters to Pomfrey to ebb her into giving him the calming draught, but that turned out to be unnecessary.

"Now! Onto what's important." Hermione said as she put away her list and got back to eating. "How are your essays coming along?"

He'd fallen behind on his homework in his battle to get his head straight. Trelawney's dream interpretation was easy to fake, and the transfiguration essay was marginally taxing. Honestly, without the support from his friends he'd be in a rather hopeless position. Between Hermione covering for the hate mail and Ron helping him yuck up the dream journal he'd had plenty of time to finish the transformation and potion essays.

The real surprise came in the form of the otherwise mythical Care of Magical Creatures assignment. Harry was right to worry about Hagrid. The loveable giant had assigned them the task of coming up with and explaining five methods for defeating a dragon with four spells or less. One on one.

This on it's own was preposterous, but the added restriction that the hypothetical battle must take place in exactly the same arena which the champions faced theirs in the first task made it impossible. And they weren't allowed to use Harry's method as a freebie.

Hagrid had even taken points from students for the first time that week. Admittedly they had run away from class and hidden in his cabin out of fear for the Skrewts, so they kind of deserved it. He also gave points to those who stayed. Seeing that most of the cowards had been Slytherin, the points tallied up nicely in Gryffindor's favor.

"Bollocks with your priorities, woman!" Ron told her. "Tell us what's really important. Who are you going to the ball with?"

Harry thought both of their priorities needed some reconfiguration. Death threats from burly men who regularly walked to the bar covered in fourth degree burns from work seemed rather more pressing than homework or a silly dance. Of course that was just his opinion.

"I don't know." Harry told them honestly.

"Well you better figure it out soon, before the more desperate girls resort to love potions." Hermione warned him.

Hermione was a perceptive girl. He suspected she had noticed his recent aversion to the lusty gazes of their less discreet classmates and intended to scare him into action. If only she knew exactly how horrifying what she just said truly was to him. It was about time for his spoon of calming draught, wasn't it?

"Yeah. I probably should find out what her name is." He said offhandedly before he knocked back the dark, minty liquid.

"You're going to ask a girl to the ball and don't even know her name?" Ron asked in a voice as disbelieving as Hermione's gaping mouth.

"No. I'm already going to the ball with a girl and I don't know her name."

He had received many looks from his bucktoothed friend over the years when words failed to convey how stupid he was. This one took the cake.

"What!" She demanded.

He shrugged guiltily.

"She asked and I said yes."

Her look didn't subside.

"Why?"

Harry meant to say 'B _ecause she was bigger and older than me and I was terrified she'd bisect me with a log splitting curse if I said no.'_ But somehow it came out as "Because she asked. I was surprised."

Ron picked up the completely wrong meaning from that.

"Yeah. We're supposed to be the house of courage aren't we?" He told Hermione. "Any girl brave enough to walk up to a man and ask HIM to the ball is exactly the brand of brave we like In a girl."

Harry decided he distinctly liked that cover story. He'd go along. Unfortunately theirs was not a private conversation.

"Ron. Go to the ball with me?"

The voice belonged to one Lavender Brown. Harry hadn't exactly recognized it at first. Her question had come out rather high-pitched. He'd never seen such a look of fear on the girl's face.

The look on Ron's face at the sudden chance to prove his words were more than just words, on the other hand, was priceless. He nodded dumbly.

Lavender squealed and left the table. She walked calmly, if rather stiffly, at first before breaking into a sprint to the Ravenclaw table where Parvati had invaded to sit with her sister.

Hermione ignored Ron's shock and Harry's amusement with the turn of events and turned back to chastising him.

"But that doesn't excuse you for not knowing her name!" She said, taking the effort to whisper in order to avoid another incident.

"Did you see how Ron reacted to being asked?" He replied in a similar whisper.

She nodded.

"And how Lav responded to being told yes?"

She nodded again.

"It was like that. I nodded like an idiot and she ran off before I could gain my bearings and ask her name. Excuse me."

He paused to help Ron catch his bearings by taking up his friend's fork and guiding the piece of ham at the end of it into his friend's still gaping mouth. He returned to the moment, took his fork and went back to eating.

Food. Food is the cure to everything that ails the redheaded boy. When in doubt, give him food.

"Well! Can you at least point her out?" Hermione coaxed as Harry started to refill his plate.

That was a good question. He looked around the hall looking for her long, curly black hair. There were a lot of black haired-girls among the Ravenclaws, and brunettes among the Hufflepuffs. Odd. Redheads were over-represented in Gryffindor and Blonde's in Slytherin. He never noticed that before.

"What year was she?" Ron asked helpfully.

"She looked like a fifth year. A foot taller than I am. Long black wavy hair. Tan skin. Amber eyes. Athletic build." He listed off her features.

"She wasn't one of the team hotties? Owe!" Ron asked before being kicked under the table by Hermione.

"No. I would have recognized her. She looked like one hell of an athlete. You don't get a body like that without using it for a purpose, so I was surprised when I got a close look at her."

"Well it better be a Gryffindor." Ron told them. "If it's not I'll NEVER let our girls live it down. To be out-braved by another house. For shame."

Hermione snapped her fingers to get their attention and pointed behind them to the Slytherin table. Sure enough, there she was. She sat, surrounded on all sides by seventh years, at the head of the table. They were deep in a study session, so either she was a seventh year herself or she'd skipped a few grades. Were they allowed to do that?

"That's her." He said nonchalantly before turning back to his food.

"A Slytherin!" Ron said in surprise, before settling into a bemused grin. "Oh this is too good. We have to keep this under wraps."

"Why?" Harry couldn't help but wonder aloud, despite his gratitude that Ron hadn't gone into a rant about why he shouldn't dance with one of the snakes.

"Are you kidding? The look on people's faces is going to priceless when you walk out on the dance floor with the only Slytherin girl who doesn't make people's eyes bleed, and owe! Quit it Hermione!"

The glare Harry gave Hermione put an end to her kicking, but also earned him a glare in return.

"And if we let the rumor mill find out it'll ruin the surprise." Ron finish. "And we should probably keep it secret to keep her safe from the Gryff ditzes and you safe from the Slytherin idiots.

Harry had to tip his glass in appreciation of Ron's insight, and he mockingly bowed at the praise.

He already felt guilty enough about going to the ball with someone other than Sue. After all, she had made a rather explicit confession of her feelings for him. He tried to rationalize it away by the fact that he wasn't dating this Slytherin girl. He was just going to the dance with her. It didn't mean anything.

There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. Maybe he could get a proper date with the pale girl? Do things the proper way, but in reverse.

"I can't tell if you two are pretending and trying to upset me or if you're serious." Hermione said, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Huh?" Ron said.

It was close enough to Harry's response that he didn't feel the need to add to it.

"That girl! Do you really not recognize her?"

The duo turned around to look at the seventh years again before turning back to Hermione.

"Nope." Harry said.

"Why? Should we?" Ron asked.

Hermione could only glower at them.

"That's Arriane Cauderdale!" She hissed as if it were a revelation. **(A/N - 4)**

At their identical shrugs she elaborated.

"The head girl!"

"Ooooooh!" They gasped in stereo.

Harry shared a glance with his best friend.

"Never heard of her. What about you?" Harry asked.

"Not a once." Ron answered.

"You CANNOT be serious!" Hermione growled.

The ignorant duo shrugged again.

"I never really cared who was head boy or girl." Harry explained. "The only ones I ever knew of were Percy and Tom Riddle. The former because he never shut up about it. I don't even know who the head boy is this year."

"It's Cedric!" She hissed.

"Really! I never would have known." Harry said.

"Probably could have guessed it though." Ron added.

"You two are unbelievable!"

And with that she stormed away. It was all well and good because Harry really needed to get to the library and work on Hagrid's essay anyways. He didn't have time to explain all of the ways the titles of head boy and girl didn't matter in the slightest. At all. To any degree in any area of life. Ever.

* * *

The massive oak doors to the library had become an omen of horror in recent days, at least to Harry. He'd been trying to avoid it, but with his essay due in two days he really needed to get through them.

He was saved from the ordeal of opening the door himself when a group of Hufflepuff fifth years exited. He slipped in before the door closed, feeling silly about his attempt at guile. Though the last time he'd been in here guile was very much warranted, today it was less so, but still necessary.

He had another target to take on before wandering the aisles aimlessly in search of five new methods for slaying giant fire-breathing lizards. His target was right next to the door on the table of encyclopedias near Madam Pince's desk.

Few students outside of OWL and NEWT years opened any of them. It was impossible to get on the reserve list for any of the massive tomes with two other years worth of students practically having a war over the privilege. To be fair, their need was greater than anyone else's.

Fortunately, there was one book that was never on the reserve list, because nobody ever wanted to read it. That was the book he needed now.

The Book of Rules.

Every Hogwarts rule, regulation, punishment, mediation, policy and process is listed in mind-numbing detail within it's pages. You want to know what the punishment is for stealing? It'll tell you. With a sliding scale based on the value of what you stole.

The thing was covered in dust. Makes sense. Students only ever used it when they really fucked up, though interestingly not when trying to argue against an unfair punishment. It just wasn't worth the effort. Usually teacher-assigned punishments were comparatively lenient.

There was a wooden booth near the table of encyclopedias set aside for students who needed to check this very book. It was loaded with so many privacy spells it practically made you tingle to walk past it.

Madame Prince made a show of covering her eyes when Harry lifted the book from next to her, which could have been made of lead based on its weight. She valued student's trust in her ability to keep their problems private. Everyone knew she kept student secrets, for better or worse. It was part of her oath, as binding as Pomfrey's.

He never could get a straight answer on what the title of ' _Madame_ ' in the wizarding world really meant. It clearly wasn't just to do with medicine or seniority.

He locked himself into the booth with a sigh of relief.

He hoped he didn't need to know, but it payed to be prepared. He lifted his wand and tapped the wooden lid of the book three times, uttering the words to what was becoming his favorite spell as he did so.

"Somen Revalio, Pregnant."

He repeated the spell with every variation and tense of the word and noted the pages. They were all in the same section, and the first few paragraphs answered all of his questions.

 _In the event a student becomes pregnant or father's a child, they are required to have a paternity test done by the resident mediwitch. Once the parentage is confirmed the two students will have the choice to marry or be expelled. Unless one of the individuals involved is a faculty member, in which case the situation is no longer an internal affair._

 _Should the two students opt into a marriage, to be had in front of the entire school, they will be given their own quarters fitted with everything young parents will need. Both of their course loads will be cut in half, and rearranged so that their classes never overlap and so that one parent may always be caring for the child. They are also banned from all extra-curricular activities, to allow them maximum time to care for the child or children._

 _Come time for OWL and NEWTS the students are only allowed to take them for the five fundamental classes; Charms, Transfiguration, Dark Arts, Herbology and Potions._

... That's it?

Shotgun marriage? Public shaming via a humiliating wedding in front of the entire school to dissuade other students from making the same mistake? Kicked off the Quidditch team? Academic career cut in half and then some? These were all pretty bad, sure, but Harry was expecting much worse. Hell, he even gets a private room with his 'wife' and a lot more free time. Until the pregnancy comes to completion, that is.

He still prayed to every deity he could think of, all 72 demons of Solomon and a fairy or two that he hadn't put a baby in her, but his life wouldn't be over if he had. Honestly, it didn't sound like a terrible life. In fact, it sounded pretty good. Marginally better than the one he had, but much worse than the one he wanted.

Neither of them would ever have a fantastic career, but honestly how many people do? He'd be able to complete his basic wizarding education, he'd finally have a family, unideal though it would be, and continue his life as a wizard.

Satisfied that no matter what happens, he'd be able to continue pushing through, he closed the book, returned it to the table, and marched into the library proper. Hopefully this didn't turn out to be the last essay he ever did for his giant of a friend.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

I have never written an erotic scene before and in all honesty I don't particularly like them. But as you can see I didn't write it here for the sake of eroticism but as an important and useful story element.

I remind you. Both Harry and Sue are FOURTEEN in Goblet of Fire. Way too young to safely do this kind of thing. To people that age such behavior is foolish and destructive, and is itself like a branch of magic with terrible consequences to those who fail to respect it. In other words the EXACT kind of thing my story calls for.

Also, while I won't go that route for this story, I'm sure you all noticed how the fine text of this Hogwarts rule could be used to get Harry out of the Tournament. Feel free to steal that idea for a story of your own. Or any idea in my stories. Just be sure to tell me so in a review and give credit in your story.

I was going to make this chapter longer, but decided it had gone on long enough. I cut out the essay writing for the first half of the next chapter.

 **(A/N - 1)**

Seriously ladies. That hurts. Don't grind so roughly when we're balls deep. We're too polite to say anything when it happens, but still.

Remember. In and out. In and out.

 **(A/N - 2)**

I sure as hell was oblivious to the interest of women as a teenager. Some of it was really obvious. I blame it on the fact that so many women of all ages fake interest to get what they want that all of us guys assume you all are. It's a sad state of affairs. Like most issues, both sexes are being dumbasses.

 **(A/N - 3)**

It wasn't my intention to harp on U.K sex scandals in particular, after all the U.S has Hollywood - a vile hive of pedophilia. Hell, one of our previous presidents regularly visited Epstein's rape island via the Lolita Express where pedophilic orgies were regular occurrences. So don't get the impression I'm unfairly critical of your island.

I just think Magical Britain would be more focussed on the sex crimes in their own lands.

Also I wanted the magical world to be better than the Muggle world in at least one regard, and I picked sex crimes.

Makes sense. They have such a higher capacity to get away with rape that they would need a much more serious legal standard and social shaming to combat monsters who would use magic for such things.

Hell, in my own head canon even Voldemort doesn't tolerate such behavior from his followers. Though this has less to do with his disgust for his rapist of a mother, and more to do with his fake purebloods beliefs(Which he obviously doesn't actually believe). To quote Cedric of Wassax - "We don't mix with these people."

 **(A/N - 4)**

Arriane Cauderdale is an OC from the story **A Wizard Who Meddled With Time**. An excellently well-written and hilarious fanfiction by **Team Otters**. Go read it while you wait for my next chapter if you haven't already. Its the second funniest fanfiction I have ever read, right behind **Havoc Side of The Force**.

I am stealing her without a hint of shame because I think she's a great and interesting character who only had one scene in the aforementioned fanfiction before it was abandoned. I am also stating that she was the "fifth year" who asked him to the ball in GOF who he was worried would "knock him out if he said no".

 **Reviews**

 **Guest** \- Wrote:

The first chapter was interesting. The second made no sense

 **Response** :

Thank you for your concise example of exactly how not to write a review. No mention of what didn't make sense? Check. No discussing how to improve it? Check. Unsigned review to hide from getting a response? Double check.

I allow unsigned reviews because I'm not afraid of any feedback, positive or negative. But every now and then there's a nuisance like you.

 **Steam Powered Crow** \- Wrote:

What a scary creature. Harry's going to make one isn't he? And next chapter's M rating means either explicit violence or explicit relations. Or both. I eagerly await more.

 **Response** :

No. Harry is not going to spend three years and what amounts to millions of dollars to create one of these monstrosities. The purpose of the previous chapter was to expand the universe a bit and to give you guys a little filler. Although, do remember, that was a single entry of a banned book. A book the British Ministry of Magic has in its possession.

Food for thought.


	4. Chapter 3: Female Initiative

**Chapter 3:**

 **Female Initiative**

* * *

Something about sitting down with a blank roll of parchment spread out in front of you really gets the noggin jogging.

The complete mental blankness that Harry always felt upon starting an essay was like a deep meditation beneath a tranquil waterfall. Being in the library enhanced this feeling with the melodious odor of books, both old and new, the slightly rotting wood of tables and what he now recognized as the olfactory evidence of students sneaking in for a proper shagging the night before.

Yes. He could see why Hermione felt so at home studying in the library, minus that last bit.

His mind purified and subsequently dirtied Harry started on Hagrid's impossible assignment.

 _Five ways to utterly, totally, meticulously, viciously and single-handedly murder a Hungarian Horntail with four spells or less._

 _By Harry James Potter_.

Now there's an eye-catching title if ever there was one. Still, the pink-faced cherub occupying his right shoulder and who bore a striking resemblance to his bushy-haired friend, reminded him of the importance of proper grammar. And so he re-titled it.

 _Five methods for single-handedly slaying a dragon utilizing four spells or fewer._

Now all he had to do was ignore the freckled redhead of a devil on his left shoulder and his suggestion to skive off doing the essay in favor of a broom-ride over the forbidden forest.

Hagrid's restrictions limited him to spells he could cast directly at a foe or that could manipulate the boulders of the arena. He decided to start with the boulders, as casting spells directly upon a dragon was about as effective as pissing on the gargantuan reptile.

An hour of _'Sermo Revalio_ 's later and Harry had five feet worth of notes on every spell to do with boulders, stones or rock imaginable. He'd even managed to list them by difficulty and whether they were charms, transfigurements or a combination of the two.

Working his way down the list from least difficult to most difficult he came up with plenty of ideas on wounding or repelling a dragon, and even for protecting himself. Stone-hardening charms could make them much deadlier projectiles when banished. Stone-sweating(eww) charms would make them more fire-resistant and thus more effective shields against flames.

The first fatal idea came to him in the form of a stone-to-clay spell, which was a bit advanced but only because it had a basis in both charms and transfiguration. It did exactly what it sounded like. It liquified a stone into the texture of clay for ease of moulding before re-hardened into the mason's desired shape. The biggest obstacle for him learning the spell was that it was Inca in origin and hadn't been latinized.

Fortunately Madam Pince was a polyglot to rival even Barty Crouch's alleged linguistic abilities. She even specialized in pre-historic languages, a fact he learned upon asking her for the language section.

"The Quechuan language is rather easy to pronounce, Mister Potter." She had said. "The Stone-like-Water incantation is simply said as _Rumi Ipa Unu_."

Harry tried it on a miniscule pebble he peeled from beneath his shoe and it worked beautifully. Hogwarts really should start requiring students to own different shoes for indoor and outdoor activities. Maybe install lockers in the entrance hall for said purpose? It sure would make keeping the castle floors clean an easier task.

But then again, fuck Filch.

His idea was simple. Liquify a boulder. Banish it to entirely enclose the dragon's head, mouth and nostrils. Then re-harden it. The dragon would then suffocate or, if Harry waited until after the imaginary foe caught it's breath in preparation of another stream of fire, burn itself to death internally. He could even add a hardening or heat resistance charm to the stone muzzle afterwards for good measure. He was allowed a fourth spell after all.

Harry spent the afternoon practicing the technique at the edge of the path to Hogsmeade. A small henge circle sat near the trailhead which arithmancy and rune students used for practicing... something. Today he was using it to practice something himself.

He quickly discovered that the stone to clay charm was much more difficult to cast on the larger standing stones than a grain of sand, but when he finally got it down banishing it the way he intended was easy. It took some practice before he could keep it all in a single mass as it flew through the air and coated the pine tree he was using as a target.

By the time he finished, several of the timbers sported the most surreal decorations. The liquified stone had dripped onto most of the branches and pine needles before he could harden it. It looked like somebody had dripped opaque wax from a giant candle onto it.

That ought to confuse the shit out of somebody.

Hopefully nobody traced it back to Harry or else Pomfrey might come complaining to him about having to remedy bald spots from all the head-scratching.

After he finished writing out the full process he invented Harry quickly came up with two more that were rather similar to the first.

Method two involved conjuring water and banishing it into the dragon's lungs as it took a breath. Drowning it almost instantly. Method three was a combination of the first two, but instead of death by drowning he would surround the dragon's head with the water, freeze it, and then charm it to be unbreakable.

He considered a fourth method where he would cast the bubble head charm he'd seen the trainers use, but instead of using it on himself he would cast it on a dragon, freeze it, then harden it as well. He somehow doubted the charm could be cast on the magically resistant creature, not that he'd be required to demonstrate any of these techniques on a live subject, but he would prefer to come up with techniques that actually worked.

Besides, he was getting bored of coming up with roundabout ways of killing via asphyxiation.

He wondered how nobody had come up with these methods before. Everyone knew that a dragon's eyes were their most obvious weak point. Did it never occur to someone that the same is true for other orifices? Fleur at least recognized this and magically attacked hers by means of an enchanted lullaby.

Why wasn't she close to him in the lead again?

His fourth idea was to somehow cause massive internal bleeding by forcing a multitude of pointy objects down an enemies throat via a banisher. His first choice of object was metal jacks, the ones used for the children's game. Problem was, he was restricted to four spells. He could conceivably blast a boulder to smithereens and transfigure the pieces into jacks one by one, but he would quickly exceed his alloted casting count.

With a little guidance from the elderly librarian, who he was fast coming to appreciate, he discovered the caltrod spell. It turned any loose rocks or pebbles into sharp, pointed caltrods. It was intended to be cast ardently behind a wizard as he fled from horseback pursuers, but it would work for his purposes.

And so method number four amounted to; blast the boulder, turn rubble into caltrods, banish down dragon's throat. Or up its anus. Wait. No. It's a lizard. Their ugly bits are called cloaca.

How did he even know that? Whatever.

Harry needed one more method and didn't want to try counting number four as a two parter based solely on which end of the digestive system one targeted. His mind kept drifting back to the stone to salt spell. The Marauder in him wanted to somehow get around the assignment rules and find a way to use it anyways.

Oh right! Salt poisoning.

Method five. Stone to salt. Stone to clay. Banish down throat and into stomach. Brilliant!

Trying to get two or three paragraphs out of each method really strained his verbosity, but three and a half years of writing two thousand word essays that could be expressed in a single sentence hadn't gone to waste. By dinner his task was finished.

Little did he know that while he had sequestered himself in the library, the more feminine half of the student body had started a revolution.

* * *

"So apparently I'm going to the Yule Ball with Lovegood."

Harry paused in his assault on the delectable carrot-ginger soup to respond as eloquently as possible to Neville's impromptu statement.

"Who?"

"Luna Lovegood." The normally shy boy said. "She's a Ravenclaw in the year below us."

He pointed to a nearly albino girl from the table closest to them and Harry could find no reason for the dour tone Neville had adopted for the statement.

"You mean Loony?" Ron clarified. "What would possess you to ask that nutter to the Ball?"

Unfortunately Hermione was elsewhere and so Ron and Neville went gloriously un-kicked. Harry considered striking them under the table himself for disparaging the blonde. She looked like a sweet girl from where he sat. Her demeanor seemed shy and yet somehow open and welcoming at the same time.

"I didn't!" Neville said defensively. "She asked me! What was I supposed to say?"

Fortunately Ginny came to the rescue and smacked both of the boys on the back of their heads.

"Thank you Ginny."

"No problem, Harry." She said with a smile as she took a seat between the two and across from him. "And you said exactly what you were supposed to Nev. Luna is wonderful and you should feel lucky to be going with her."

Neville grumbled something about radishes and cork necklaces. Harry thought it wise not to ask.

"I'm just mad she asked you first. I was seconds away from doing the same." Ginny said offhandedly, making Neville blush and Ron sputter.

"Wait, what?" Her brother demanded.

The youngest Weasley shrugged.

"The rumors around Neville being a good dancer are all my classmates can talk about. Well, half of them." She explained with a shrug. "Apparently you made a great impression during your lesson."

Harry remembered that. His dorm-mate had absolutely humiliated the rest of them during McGonnigal's unexpected dancing lesson. Harry never would have know his friend could move so gracefully, nor for that matter, lift a full-grown woman with such ease if he hadn't seen Neville practically toss their head of house like a Quaffle before gently catching and lowering her.

He doubted the student body would ever see the stern professor so flustered for the rest of their natural lives. Harry imagined the other heads of houses holding similar lessons in the other common rooms, and found himself embroiled in an internal debate on who would have been a more interesting spectacle; Snape trying to teach the samba to the serpents or Flitwick trying to teach salsa to the ravens.

"And Perkins asked Seamus just after I snagged Dean." Ginny finished.

"You asked Dean Thomas to the ball?" Ron clarified.

"Yup yup." Ginny said smiling. "And you'll never believe it, but Padma and Parvati asked the Slytherin goons."

Harry was decidedly lost.

"Which ones?" He asked, ignoring the itch in the back of his mind that he was missing something odd about the conversation.

"Crabbe and Goyle of course! They didn't actually expect the oafs to say yes, they must have thought it would be funny to pick on them. They aren't laughing now."

That didn't sound particularly funny to Harry. Not at all. It actually sounded rather mean. Asking somebody out expecting them to be too shy or self-critical to say yes? Had they done it publicly hoping to humiliate the boys in front of the whole school? Somehow Harry doubted that the worst of Voldemort's lot would do something so cruel.

Harry had no love for his dumb-as-dung classmates, but that's cold.

"I say they got what they deserved." Neville, who by the look of anger on his face had a similar thought process to Harry. "Let's see them go to the ball and be miserable or cancel and have the whole school know how petty they are."

Hell yeah!

"I swear to god, if they ghost on those two I'm going to slip them, Filch and Snape sleeping draughts and make sure they all come to in a particularly cramped cupboard. Bare as the day they were born." Ginny said in a way that made it hard to tell if the prank idea had just come to her or if she'd spent all day planning it.

It also left no doubt as to whether or not she'd actually go through with it.

Harry knew of a certain cupboard beneath a certain set of stairs in a certain house on Privet Drive that would be perfect for the task.

"You should invite Peeves to do the honors of waking them." Ron suggested with an infectious grin

"Yeah. That blasted poltergeist would get the word out about Filch and Snapes pederasty faster than a Roman runner." Harry further suggested as he caught whatever disease was making all their faces look like skulls from the nose down.

"Pederasty?" Ginny asked confusedly.

"Yup. I imagine those two will find it rather difficult to get jobs in education after being caught nude in a broom closet with Crabbe and Goyle."

"I meant the Patils!"

* * *

The next day saw an explosion in activity among the female populace of Hogwarts.

What started as a one-off occurence turned into a trend as Lavender Brown made the rumor mill spread a matter of fact instead of conjecture - for once. As word got around that Harry had agreed to go to the ball with the first girl to ask him, not to mention Lavender's subsequent experiment in growing a metaphorical pair and asking Ron out, the rest of the student body followed suit.

Hermione would go on to explain to anybody who would listen that Muggle schools had events called ' _ladies choice_ ' where the girls were REQUIRED to do the asking and boys were forbidden from making the approach. It was supposed to be something to do with inspiring self-confidence and initiative in young women. It didn't work, but that was the idea.

"Well, being required by an authority figure to ask boys with threat of punishment isn't a very good motivator." Ginny had countered over lunch. "But the prospective reward of going to the ball with Gryffindor's most sought after bachelors -" she paused to indicate Ron and Harry " - definitely would. You know. Stick vs carrot."

"Wait. I'm a sought after bachelor?" Ron had said.

"Yeah! He's a sought after bachelor?" Harry had repeated, thumbing his best friend.

The glare Ron sent his way was priceless.

Ginny could only sigh and nod her head in confirmation.

"Why me?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, why hi- owe!"

"Thank you Hermione."

"Because Ronald." Ginny explained, obviously uncomfortable with the prospect of her brother being desired by other women. "You are tall."

... That was it? Indeed, Ron was the tallest in their year and the year above them with the possible exception of Blaise Zabini. But he was as unapproachable to girls as Daphne Greengrasse was to boys. If she was the ice queen of Slytherin, he was certainly the ice emperor of Hogwarts in its entirety.

Still, that seemed a bit superficial. Sure, his peers would obsess over the appearance and, er, assets of a girl but it wasn't usually - emphasis on usually - regarding a single physical feature to the exclusion of all others. They usually obsessed over the entire package, so to speak.

"And some would say funny. Which might also have something to do with it." Ginny admitted.

"Hey. Cheers to that, eh Ron?" Harry said, raising his goblet for Ron to smash his own against, which he did with a whoop.

Seeing normally shy and withdrawn girls walk straight up to their classmates and reveal their long-kept secret affection for the whole world to see was certainly surprising. Even more surprising was the dumb disbelief these girls had when the apple of their eyes inevitably said yes.

It was only after seeing this for the twentieth time that Harry realized girls must understand boys as poorly as he himself understood them. Did they really not know how starved of female attention and affection they all were? That they thought a boy would ever say no to a girl, any girl, asking them out?

One of Aragog's daughters could put on a (very custom) dress, descend from the forbidden forest, walk through the front doors and proposition Ronald Weasley and the ginger would be miraculously cured of his arachnophobia before declaring his undying love for her! Firenze's niece, which Harry imagined existed for the sake of the comparison, could do the same first three steps and proposition Draco Bloody Malfoy and he'd certainly accept the ill-advised mare's offer. Pureblood ideology forbidding such unions be damned.

Hell, a wayward breeze could rustle the dying leaves of the whomping willow in such a way as to elicit a sound that vaguely resembles a woman's voice saying _'Please go to the Yule Ball with me?_ ' and the average full-grown wizard would say yes!

All in all though the entire debacle of Hogwarts completely upending gender norms in the lead-up to the Yule Ball was a surprisingly fun, entertaining and educational experience for everyone.

* * *

It wasn't until the the last day of term that he finally had his long anticipated confrontation with Sue.

As was becoming the norm for him, Harry found himself in the library when it happened. He had just turned in Hagrid's essay, fully expecting to have it returned with full marks when classes resumed, when he decided to do a bit of antagonizing.

He had already made a spare copy of the essay and rewrote it in such a way that it functioned more as a training manual like the ones he'd seen in the WW2 history books.

He fully described methods for practicing and applying his dragon-slaying techniques and even paid Dean a few sickels to make ink illustrations for each method, under the condition he keep it all hush-hush of course. It was basically a six page booklet of loose parchment with a blank cover, save for his infuriatingly messy signature sprawled across it.

The skyscraper-sized stack of loose parchment he was using to make duplicates of the original manual had dwindled as the stack of completed manuals grew. That was when she sat next to him.

She didn't greet him. She didn't ask what he was working on. She didn't - thankfully - jump onto his lap and strip him naked for the entire Ravenclaw population(and Hermione) to watch. Nope. She just sat beside him and cracked open a book on Zimbabwean history.

Harry was ashamed of it, but he most definitely stiffened at the sight of her, and not in a fun way.

He glanced back and forth from her to the remaining pages, but she didn't meet his eyes. Feeling his shoulders relax he went back to transfiguring the loose parchment into booklets and performing the note duplication charm.

She still hadn't looked up when he finished.

"So?" Harry broached nervously.

"Sooooo?" She responded in what might have been nervousness as she finally looked up from her reading.

He was starting to get less creeped out by the way she looked at him without moving her head or neck. Starting to. He also noted that she had not turned the pages a single time since she'd arrived.

"How did you know to wait for me in that hallway?"

Her jaw actually dropped at his question. It was the most expressive face he'd seen on her to date.

"Really?" She balked. "That's the part of the whole thing you want to know?"

Harry shrugged.

"I mean. I figured I'd start slow. Kinda like how you didn-... you know what I'm not finishing that joke." It was too hurtful, and too easy, of a jab to make. "Yes, that's what I'd like to know."

She huffed in obvious annoyance and put her book down with a mechanical economy of motion.

"I tagged you with a tracking charm that first day." She explained simply. "And projected your movements onto a three-dimensional graphing box."

Now it was Harry's turn to stare at her with a gaping mouth.

"Huh?"

She huffed again but dutifully withdrew a glass box from her bag. It looked a lot like one of those plastic cubes they use to teach math in primary school, the big hundred count one that had grooves in it similar to graphing paper. This one was transparent save for the blue, repeating, graphing lines on the X, Y and Z axis and would have been used to represent a thousand.

There was a pair of oddly shaped lines zigzagging through it. They were identical, save for one being red and one being blue, and reminded him of an ant tunnel.

"This is a three-dimensional graphing box." She explained. "It is an arithmancy aid and represents three-dimensional space. I put a tracking charm on you, and enchanted this to create a diagram of your path."

Harry squinted at the box and tried to imagine the layout of Hogwarts, something he was very good at doing. Sure enough the two lines perfectly matched the path from the entrance hall, up the grand staircase to the fourth floor, through the secret passage and into the common room. It was a rather impressive bit of magic. He wondered if he could somehow combine the Marauder's map with one of these.

"And then you cast the same tracking charm on yourself and repeated the pattern?" Harry clarified. "Observing the graph as you did so?"

She nodded and gave him that same, almost imperceptible, smirk.

"I tagged you with the charm each day you practiced your little electrolysis charm on the lake, brilliant bit of spell modification there by the way."

"Thank you."

"And you always took that same passage between the fourth and seventh floors."

Harry nodded. This was some post-Hermione level cleverness here. He should create a Granger scale from one to ten with one being equal to solving Snape's logic puzzle. This would easily register as an eight, perpendicular to brewing polyjuice potion as a second year and just one notch above realizing the Chamber of Secrets held a basilisk.

"Okay. That's incredibly brilliant and all, but..." Harry paused to collect his thought. He knew he wasn't the most diplomatic speaker during even the most comfortable conversations, which this was definitely not.

"I'm sorry." She confessed.

He stared at her. She had apologized in the same monotonous, yet somehow beautiful, voice she always did. There was no sign of sadness or remorse on her face either, not even a teary eye like he expected.

Despite her mechanical way of talking and expressing he still somehow felt, knew, that she had meant it. That accursed instinct to comfort her rose, unbidden, like a roaring lion in his chest.

"It wasn't my intention to do all of that." She went on. "I only wanted to steal a.."

She paused to glance around, somehow looking bored with her drooping eyes as she did so.

"A kiss." She finished when she decided nobody was listening in.

"Okay. But why?"

"Why did I want to kiss you? Or why I didn't stop there like I should have?" She clarified.

"Both? Either?"

She sighed and for the first time since he'd met her did away with proper posture and slid into her chair as she slouched.

"You killed that Horntail." She said simply. "It was kinda hot."

Harry lost a battle with the blush that rose to his cheeks at that. He thought he was above the childish reaction, but apparently losing your virginity did not in fact inure you to such things.

"As for why I went too far. Well. I've never felt that way towards a boy before. So when I started, I just couldn't stop." She explained.

Harry chose not to point out the unintentional hint at lesbianism in her choice of qualifier in that statement.

"I also had another reason. An actual reason. But I don't wish to talk about that." She finished her confession. "Especially since I may have been mistaken in my conclusion."

Harry didn't know WHAT to make of that one. Unfortunately, fate decided to interrupt before he could even attempt to parse the enigma that was Sue Li, or even decide whether or not to accept her apology.

"Um. Harry?"

He instantly recognized the voice but looked up to verify the arrival of his fellow champion just the same.

"Yeah Cedric?"

He glanced between Harry, Sue and the veritable mountain of paper manuals before going on.

"The judges want us for an end of term interview." He explained, clearly unsure if he should say anything in front of the pale girl. "They've got a lot more reporters this time."

Harry nodded before banishing the fruit of his labour into the expanded trunk he borrowed from Gred and Forge. He couldn't help feeling slightly excited about interviewing with reporters that weren't Rita Skeeter.

"Alright. Lead the way." Harry said, trying to silently convey to Sue that he intended to finish their conversation later.

He recognized the irony of trying to communicate nonverbally with a girl who seemed totally incapable of conveying anything nonverbally herself.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

This chapter is only half as long as I intended, but time constraints demand I split this chapter in half... Again.

I thought this one was rather lackluster, but I still hope you all enjoyed it.

 **Reviews:**

Hoodedgenius98 : Wrote

Not the most ridiculous method of offing the dragon that goes to dropping the Hogwarts express filled with explosives on it. There are some amazing ways to kill the dragon on this site

 **Response** :

I wasn't trying to be ridiculous. I was trying to be believable and interesting. I must say, that sounds like a pretty retarded fanfiction you were reading. Was it the Horntail in the second task that he killed with this method or was there a reasonable series of events leading to the Hogwarts express being made to fly and used in a battle that happened to involve dragons? Actually I like the idea of a flying and gun-bedecked Hogwarts Express. I think I'll incorporate that into Fight Fire with Fire later on.

You might as well just drop the name of whatever story that happened in with your next review. Just in case it's actually a good story.

 **thomaspheasant** : Wrote

please update immediately

 **Response** :

No.


	5. Chapter 4: Prophesied Lord

**A Much Deadlier Tournament**

 **Chapter 4:**

 **The Prophesied Lord**

* * *

"So how is the egg coming along?"

Harry blanched at Cedric's unexpected question.

Egg? What egg? Had the Hufflepuff somehow learned about his failed attempts at having Trevor sit atop a chicken egg down in the chamber of secrets?

If so, then he could get Harry into a whole mountain of trouble. Not just with Neville, who would undoubtedly be incensed to learn that Harry was responsible for his toad's latest batch of disappearances, but with magical law enforcement.

How many decades in Azkaban was it for trying to breed a basilisk?

"Huh?" Harry answered with his best poker face.

"The golden egg. From the first task. How far along are you with the clue?"

The egg has a clue!?

"Oh. I haven't even bothered starting yet." Harry confessed as they exited the library corridor and began descending the grand staircase.

Cedric nodded while giving him a polite, and possibly pitying, smile.

"Well, you really helped me out with the first task, so I thought I'd return the favor." Cedric explained pointlessly.

Harry really wished the older seeker would get on with it.

"I recommend opening it while taking a bath."

The egg opens!?

"The prefect bathroom on the fifth floor is a great place to soak and mull things over." Cedric finished. "The password is pine fresh."

Harry nodded in thanks.

"Right. I'll be sure to pay it a visit." He said.

They walked in awkward silence from there.

Neither of them were particularly eager to talk to reporters again. The last time hadn't gone well for any of the champions, even if Harry had gotten the worst of it. Though, if all goes according to plan this one would prove to be much more entertaining.

In the meantime, Harry amused himself by surruptitiously tilting every painting they passed on the way down. Their occupants screams of discomfort as they slid out of frame was music to his ears.

Cedric immediately caught him in the act but, instead of whining like a good prefect and head boy, decided to ignore his attempts at causing headaches for the more obsessive compulsive students and staff, all the while snickering and smirking as they went.

* * *

Cedric had not been joking when he said there would be many more reporters this time.

Not only had the Daily Prophet sent a new reporter, though the same cameraman, but so too had The Herald, Witch Weekly, their French and Bulgarian counterparts, and the BBC wizarding division. There were even scouts for organizations like the Dark Force Defence League and the Beast Masters, who upon reflection, were the least surprising of the geusts.

The wall of reporters filled half the room, the other half by the champions, all three headmaster's, Barty Crouch, Fudge and the lovely heads of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff houses.

Harry tried his hardest to act as stoic as Cedric, but with both McGonagall and Dumbledore standing driectly behind him he was understandably fidgety. He had been doing quite a bit of rule breaking as of late, and the old lioness was nowhere near as relaxed as the badger queen.

Maybe if he could convince the transfiguration teacher would take up gardening? That would surely mellow her out. A well-chosen Christmas and birthday present comprised of potted plants. It would be a long game, but Harry was sure he could pull it off.

"Miss Delacour!" A reporter from Witch Weekly fielded the first question.

They had all been waiting patiently as the reporters drew lots to determine the order in which they would get to ask questions. Harry was pleasantly surprised that the first one hadn't to do with him. Fleur smiled politely and sat slightly straighter at the question.

She practically glowed with pride at the apparent recognition.

"We at Witch Weekly would like to know if your clear skin is the result of a particular product, or the benefit of the... heritage you revealed during the weighing of the wands."

And like that, the excitement that had erupted in her eyes at what was clearly the first smidgeon of acknowledgement given to her since the tournament beagn, DIED. He almost felt bad for her, seeing her gleeful smile turn rigid and fixed as she stared unseeingly into the distance. But then he remembered his treatment at the hands of the media as of late, and decided she could certainly handle it if a 'leetle boy' could come out of it relatively unscathed.

"I wear ze makeup just as any ozzer woman." Fleur explained. "I am cursed with ze same oily skin and split ends in ze hair as everyone, and work just as hard to combat it."

Harry suspected she was lying to try and seem like a normal woman, er, girl. He would strive to think of her as a girl. Pettiness demanded it. Either way, the chick who had managed to knock a fully grown dragon unconscious would surely prefer to discuss said achievement instead of questions on skin and hair products.

Why wasn't she tied for first again?

"Johnathan Jerwin with the Prophet." Another reporter introduced himself. "My question is for Mister Diggory."

Cedric nodded to the portly man.

Why couldn't Harry hold himself with such distinction? Were there lessons for it?

"As a former Hufflepuff myself, I value fair play and all that jazz. My question is why you haven't formally complained about the unfairness of Mister Potter being forced to compete against older and more experiences wizards, including yourself. Don't you find that a bit unsporting?"

Harry felt an entire rollercoaster of emotions during that particular question. Relief that someone actually believed him regarding his entrance into the tournament, boiling anger at the now familiar insinuation that he wasn't up to the part, and begrudging recognition that, yes, it was unfair to him. All of these feelings melted away when Cedric answered the question with laughter.

It wasn't a mere chuckle, or short burst, but uproarious, chest-clutching, barely able to stay upright in his seat hysterics.

"Are you kidding me?" He managed to get out between breaths. "I've been complaining since it started that it's unfair for us to have to compete against HIM since his name first came out of the goblet!"

Professor Sprout nodded to the congregation as Harry felt the other woman's hand squeeze his shoulder with what must have been pride.

"I can confirm this. The majority of complaints I've received from my Hufflepuff students were along those lines." Sprout said.

Dumbledore now, as since the beginning of the interview, focussed all of his attention on unwrapping another unidentifiable candy he had retrieved from his robes. He looked for all the world oblivious to the beseeching gazes of reporters clearly wanting to hear him confirm this.

"But why would you think he was..."

"You are allowed one question per turn." McGonagall spoke up as her superior popped what may have been a strawberry hard candy into his mouth. "Next person please."

She was clearly in no mood to put up with anybody's shit today. Harry liked the mood shift.

The representative for the Beast Masters, an organization devoted to the hunting of beasts that threatened the statute of secrecy, fielded the next question.

"Mister Potter." An oddly dressed man who could have passed for Lucius Malfoy and Professor Trelawney's anorexic bastard son piped up. "Can you confirm or deny claims that you had in fact killed another dragon in your first year at Hogwarts?"

Hmmm. That was a new one. Unlike most rumours he could at least see how the true story, no doubt revealed to the whole school by Draco, had evolved into him somehow killing Norbert.

"I can qualitatively deny that statement and even provide evidence to the contrary." Harry said with what he hoped was a winning smile. "The only magical beast I had ever killed prior to this tournament was that Basilisk in the basement."

The reporters, foreign champions, foreign school officials and three ministry employees present all laughed good-naturedly at the comment. It was the kind of practiced laughter given to the cheesy, slightly sarcastic jokes politicians make to try and ease a crowd.

"And to answer your earlier attempt at a question." Cedric said, indicating the Johnathan fellow from the Herald. " THAT is why I didn't want to face him in this tournament."

The condescending laughter died down in place of confusion.

"You did not kill a Basilisk!" Karkaroff declared.

"Oh, yes I did." Harry affirmed.

"Non! You deed not." Madam Maxime objected.

"Yes. He did." Cedric, Sprout, McGonagall and Dumbledore all countered in unison.

Dead silence.

Fudge was the first to catch his bearings, even if his sputtering made his response difficult to quantify.

"When did this happen? Around the same time he confronted a still living Peter Pettigrew!" He demanded.

"Nonono. That the was the year after." Harry explained nonchalantly.

He refused to dignify the idiots belief in his being confunded with any recognition. When the room started to buzz, in a manner frighteningly similar to the great Hall after his name came out, Dumbledore decided to step in before the room exploded with questions.

"If I may." The elderly headmaster offered as he smacked his lips in enjoyment of the hard candy bulging against his cheek. "As per tournament regulations, Mr. Potter's hospital records were publicly released when he was chosen as champion."

They were!?

"And with even a cursory glance, I would imagine that being treated for the after-effects of Basilisk venom and flush out of phoenix tears in his system would jump out to any competent observer." Dumbledore finished.

Oh right. Harry had completely forgotten about that time Pomfrey had to flush the phoenix tears out of his system by way of laxatives and several gallons of drinking water. Apparently phoenix tears are the steroids of the magical world, as athletes would dose themselves with the stuff and proceed to perform one months worth of physical conditioning in a single day, letting the tears regenerate their damaged muscles as they trained.

He didn't look forward to having to go through tests for performance enhancers. Thanks to Dumbledore, petitiins for such testing on all of the champions would start coming in within a few days. Great.

The remaining questions from that point on were directed at his peers, but the wheel eventually landed back to him when it was the Beast Masters representative had another turn.

"Mister Potter, I think I speak for all Beast Masters when I ask, how did you manage to kill a Basilisk?"

"With a sword." He answered without a hint of hesitation.

"A sword?"

"Yessir. Pulled it out of a hat."

They all stared at him.

"Really it was all dumb luck, I sort of just held it aloft and the serpent impaled herself on it when she struck me."

They stared some more.

"That's how I got bit. Left a fang in my arm when she pulled away ." He pointed to the offending appendage.

More of that staring.

"Good thing too, because I left the sword in her brain and I needed something to stab Voldemort's old diary with."

They didn't even have presence of mind to flinch at the name. Although Dumbledore seemed to be choking on his candy in his attempts to stifle his own laughter.

"I was not ready for that day."

They didn't ask him any further questions after that. At least not directly. He paid close attention to the answers of his fellow champions, and the headmasters, but they were masters of the art of speaking without saying anything. He got nothing out of it.

Eventually Witch Weekly came around with a blanket question for all of the champions.

"For your fans out there, what would be the ideal Christmas present for each of you?"

The other champions all swerved sein their seats to look at him. Pointedly.

Okay. So they were all more interested in hearing his Christmas wishes than sharing their own? Okay.

"I mean, none of the things I want are simple to get hold of." He pre-emptively warned.

The same Witch Weekly reporter cut him off.

"Oh I'm sure there are things nobody could ever replace." She said in a sickeningly sweet voice that left no doubt she thought he was going to ask for something sappy and childish like having his parents back. "But if it's in the power of any of our readers, I'm sure they'd be happy to help fulfill your Christmas wishes."

Great. Wealthy spinster fangirls buying him presents. Might as well ask for something impossible.

"I want a functional, full-sized replica of the Paris Gun."

"Er, is there anything else you'd accept?"

"A pet tendrilled sky serpent."

"I'll see what we can do about the Paris Gun replica"

* * *

Sue trudged up to the school owlery with the air of a death row inmate.

It felt as if her life was over. Her purpose, her life's mission and reason for coming to Hogwarts in the first place, had all been for nothing.

Her mother could never understand why she fought so hard to be transfered there instead of apprenticing to become a seer like her. Every summer spent bemoaning her lack of friends and family while at school. All because Sue had refused to share the prophecy she had made to her.

That was the part that hurt the most, that she couldn't confide in anybody. She knew her mother would never have allowed her to pursue her destiny, just as they both knew fighting against a prophecy would only ever lead to disaster. But had she caused disaster herself in trying to force it to come true?

She had been following her own mother's rules. To make sure that knowledge of a prophecy stays in the minds of as few people as possible. But now? Now that she had jumped the gun and done something so stupid so reprehensible in her pursuit of it, she was ready to confess everything to the only person she knew would understand.

 _"In their lust they will reduce the world to dust."_

That phrase had seemed pretty straightforward, which was rare in prophecies. With four whole years spent fantasizing about bedding the future dark lord while flooded with preteen hormones, she simply lost control when she thought she'd finally found him. Even if she was correct in her identification, what must he think of her?

His reaction in the days afterwards was not that of a lustful man. Not in the least.

And now look at her! Morosely dragging her feet up the stairs with a tear-stained letter begging to be pulled out of school. Misery like this shouldn't be possible. Not even the delicious french food served with dinner had put a dent in her foul mood.

She figured it didn't matter where in the world she went, when the time came for her to meet her lord, fate would conspire to ensure she would find herself at Hogwarts. After all, the prophecy didn't specify when she'd meet him, just the where.

It could be during her school career, it could be in her thirties as a teacher with a student(ick) or in her eighties as a guest for a future Triwizard Tournament. Regardless, she was wrong to pounce on the first man to meet the vague description set out by her mother's forgotten words, and now her dream of giving herself fully to the future dark lord was forever lost, for she had given herself to Harry first.(Well, it was more taking than giving, but that's besides the point.)

Her hands were shaking when she finally reached the stairs, but her self-loathing turned to raw hatred at the sound of a happily whistled tune coming from above. She even felt her perfectly smooth mask crack for a split second when she heard it.

How DARE somebody be so happy while she herself was so miserable!

Deep breaths. In and out. Cold, calm, plastic exterior. That's it. Unfortunately her mask cracked again as soon as she ascended the stairs and saw who was whistling so cheerily.

"Harry?!"

The failed dark lord glanced up from the flock of owls he'd monopolized between the piled of handbooks she'd seen him making in the library earlier. He appeared to be fastening one to every single owl the school owned, which seemed rather inconsiderate to her.

"Oh hey Sue, I was just gonna come look for you after I was done here. Just about finished, hang on."

She did as instructed and waited for him to finish whatever peculiar scheme he had concocted. Likely something to do with that Granger bint's Society for Elves, or whatever. That mudblood was in some kind of denial of the nature of servitude that all lesser beings shared. But she would learn eventually.

When she finally found her lord she would make sure they revealed to Granger the great pleasure of being allowed to put that brilliant mind of hers in service to a greater vision. Funding and authority of her own to wield over others would open her eyes, and really she was rather brilliant, if only she had someone powerful to devote herself to.

"Aaaaand that should do it!" Harry exclaimed as he tied the final manual to the final owl. "Alright everyone, line up!"

And at his command the denizens of the owlery all swooped down to the floor, covering every inch of it. Harry had to back up all the way to the small entryway she was occupying, forcing her to watch the proceedings over his shoulder.

"Alright, Tulip!" A small tawny owl raised to her full height in response. "Are you sure you can make the trip all the way to Tibet? If you can't handle it I'll switch you with Marrow."

He indicated a large black eagle owl who preened at the offer of a more important mission. Tulip answered by way of giving him the EXACT same look Sue had given him when he asked her if she knew the sermo revalio spell.

Something weird was going on here. She'd never seen owls act like this before. They were almost acting like... people.

"Okay, I'll hold you to it." Harry went on before addressing the entire congregation. "Is everyone else good?"

As if they were a single entity, the flock of owls bobbed their heads as if nodding in the affirmative.

"Are you sure? Now's the time to back out. Some of these jackasses won't be happy to retrieve your cargo."

A round of clacking beaks erupted like the snickering of a crowd and Sue knew, somehow knew, they were laughing. Owls don't laugh. Owls don't understand people. Owls certainly do NOT communicate in a way people can understand.

And now Sue understood, with a greater clarity than ever before, that she had chosen correctly.

 _"He shall speak to the beasts of the earth and give unto them a voice all their own."_

It hadn't been referring to him being a parseltongue. Harry was so much more than a that. He was a Beast Master! The thing that reprehensible group of glorified animal control units named themselves after.

"Then off you all go! Go! Go! Fly my pretties!"

And they did. They flew as one, enveloping her and Harry in a typhoon of wings and feathers as they took off in every cardinal direction. Slowly seeping out through the walls as if they were a mass of liquid.

Harry smiled at the scene all the way until the final owl left on its mission, leaving the pair alone.

Her heart fluttered, actually fluttered, when he turned those dazzling green eyes to her. It was only her breathing techniques and occlumency exercises that kept her from putting her hands on every inch of him then and there.

"So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about.. that thing we did."

And like that the power and confidence he'd exuded moments before vanished, along with the frothing dew between her thighs. Was he really that nervous around girls? Even ones he's fucked? Well, fucked him, but still.

"Then talk." She all but snapped at the weak, pathetic man her lord had transformed into before her very eyes.

"Well, I wanted to invite you to the Yule Ball..."

"I'm not interested in dancing. At all. Ever. Take somebody else." She interrupted.

He stared at her with an almost humorous look of surprise. Had she said something funny?

"But, someone already asked me and I said yes." He finished.

Oh. That actually kind of hurt. She really didn't want to go, but she would have preferred if she'd been the first person he thought to ask. That way she could have shot him down. Wait.

"She asked you?" Sue clarified, curious.

He nodded sadly.

"Yup. Never spoken to that girl before in my life, and didn't learn her name until the next day." He confessed. "I just didn't have it in me to hurt her and say no."

Oh God damnit! He was being pathetic again.

"Fortunately I'm only required to perform the opening dance,then I can get the hell out of there." He explained. "At which point I can spend the rest of my evening with a more interesting girl."

Ooh, he was being smooth now. Good. Let's keep this going.

"You don't have to wait until Yule to spend time with a girl you find interesting." Sue informed him. "I'm sure if she finds you half as interesting as you find her she'd take you up on any offer of an evening together."

Reading those trashy novels Padma had forced on her was finally starting to pay off.

Harry started at her, as if he was having an internal debate on what to say next. Probably wondering if he should speam the words that were on his tongue. If Sue was skilled in legitimacy she would have willed the word "yes" into his skull over and over again.

"A friend recommended I pay the prefects bathroom a visit to work on a clue for the tournament." He pre-empted. "I could really use a brainy partner there to help me crack it. Are you doing anything late tomorrow night?"

It took all of her strength and discipline to keep a smile off of her face as the dew returned.

"Yes I am."

"Oh. Um. What? If you don't mind me asking."

"You." Sue explained as she let a smirk grace her lips.

That was apparently all it took to floor him. He just stared at her as if seeing her in a new light. A light that impressed him.

"Okay then! I'll meet you at the Ravenclaw entrance? Unless you think you can make it to the prefects bathroom after curfew by yourself."

She gave him that practiced look of incredulity, making a mental note to buy Tulip from the school so they could give it to him in stereo sometime.

"At the bathroom it is then." He surrendered with a placating hand gesture.

In her reignited excitement she had completely forgotten her purpose for being here, but Harry spotted the crumpled envelope on her hand.

"Oh! You have a letter." He looked up in search of an owl to call for her.

Had he really forgotten that he'd just sent every single owl away?

"Um. Oops. I think I can get Hedwig from my dorm for you." Harry offered, reminding her of the beautiful snow owl he owned.

As much as she wanted to see the gorgeous creature up close she shook her head and hid the letter behind her back with both hands

"It's not time-sensitive." She told him as she cast a silent incendio with her other hand to destroy it. "So are you going to tell me why you mobilized the owl corps?"

He snickered at the name but decided to let her in on it.

"You remember Hagrid's essay assignment on killing dragons?"

She nodded.

"And remember how I got all of that hate mail for killing that horntail?"

She nodded again.

"Well I decided to turn my essay, which I got an Outstanding in by the way, into a manual and sent it off to everyone who saw fit to bitch at me for it."

Oh, you little antagonizer, you.

"But why would you do that?" She asked despite her internal approval. "You'll be making enemies out of very powerful people."

He pretended to consider his response carefully, but didn't fake it for very long.

"But you fail to consider one very simple principle." He said before clearing his throat and gesturing as if to make some grand pronouncement. "Fuck em."

Oh gee. What a well-reasoned and astutely put argument. Truly this man was a master of the Hegelian dialectic. Were Hogwarts to ever fund a debate club, Harry would certainly be elected it's leader.

... Perhaps she should have said that out loud. Seems like something he'd get a kick out of.

"Besides." Harry went on. "I also addressed plenty to Beast Masters who showed support in letters to me. I hope they find it useful."

Sue found herself hoping the same. If for no other reason than it would further enrage those who got sand in their pussies over the death of such a worthless beast.

... On second thought, perhaps it was for the best that Sue kept her thoughts to herself for the time being.

"And how did your interview go?" Sue pressed on, searching for a conversation topic.

He shrugged.

"Kinda boring, to be honest. And you don't have to force a conversation, I'm not very good at them either."

Whoa! That was a rather insightful reading he just did on her. She couldn't even muster up feigned incredulity at the implied accusation.

And so she did stop making attempts at forced conversation. With night descending quickly they made their way out of the owlery and ascended the grand staircase in comfortable silence.

Sue did her best to muffle her giggles as Harry tilted every single portrait on the way up. Their inhabitants screams of protest was sweet music to her ears.

* * *

 ** _Notes:_**

 **SONOFOWLS** has written an excellent short story titled **Lusus Naturae** detailing what would happen if Hagrid got his hands on " **Abominable hybrids and how to breed them**." It's a short apacolyptic one-shot, but I beg all of you to head on over to him and give him some feedback on his first fanfiction. He has some talent.

And if any of you every want to write something inspired by my works, let me know. I'll be happy to proofread and announce it..

I am SOOOOO sorry it's taken me so long to update. I can't believe it's really been five months. Next one won't take anywhere near as long, I promise.

 **Guest** Wrote:

go buy some muggle explosives and feed the dragon ... I am sure a few grenades in his mouth would solve a few problems ... and why has hagrid not been called on his behavior was harry just suppose to stand there and let the thing eat him ... must be nice to know that hagrid values everything else but humans they are just food for his beasties after all

 **Response** :

Hagrid gets called out next chapter. Don't you worry. But I'm not bashing him. It will be very sympathetic, I assure you.

 **Wyrmraker** Wrote:

I have to admit, this is a really good read. Good pacing, excellent structure, solid plot base.  
Although having read it, I really don't see that Crime/Angst tags because I still haven't stopped laughing.

 **Response** :

Let me go ahead and change the genres. There we go.

 **Driabwb** Wrote:

Interesting so far. I look forward to the development of Sue's reasoning and their relationship. Until your next update, thank you

 **Response** :

Did u rike it?

 **thomaspheasant** Wrote:

please update immediately

 **Response** :

Holy shit I cannot believe it's been five months since I last updated. I promise the next update won't take nearly as long. A lot of life has been going on.

Also, no.


	6. Chapter 5: Dumbledore's Concerns

**A Much Deadlier Tournament**

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Dumbledore's Concerns**

* * *

 **But first, an apology.**

I apologize for my prior post where I uploaded an announcement asking for a proofreader for my stories. I have seen other stories post similar announcements and thought I would give it a try since so few people read authors Notes.

All of your feedback, especially your negative feedback(which I appreciate more than the positive) helped me see the error of doing so and I apologize

I promise to **NEVER** again post any kind of announcements in place of a chapter, except to announce I've abandoned a story, which to date, I have not.

I also apologize for this chapter. I've written and rewritten it three times now, and so far the only parts I kept throughout was the first third which I am posting here as its own chapter instead of the 12k word one I had planned. You have all been very patient and deserve something.

* * *

Harry approached the gargoyle with a great deal of reluctance. After all, It wasn't every day he found himself summoned by the headmaster. Whenever he had been in the past it was either to reward his heroics or because he was accused of being the Antichrist. Again.

He sincerely hoped today's meeting with Dumbledore would be less intense than they normally were.

"Fizzy pop." He told the statue.

It jumped aside at his pronouncement of the password and Harry climbed up to what was bound to be an interesting conversation. Indeed, his first sight of the centurion told him exactly what this was concerning.

"I confess, while I can appreciate a well thought-out and marvelously executed insult, I daresay you may have taken it too far with these pamphlets." Dumbledore greeted before licking his thumb and turning the page to one of Harry's dragon-killing manuals.

Harry said nothing.

"I must also confess, I think it was rude and inconsiderate of you to not leave a single owl available for other student's use. Extremely so." Dumbledore continued, pointing to a corner behind Harry. "Poor Fawks has had to work overtime to try and deliver mail and packages to and from the school all day."

Harry turned to the immortal bird in question to see it drooping miserably. Eyelids sluggish and head downcast. Before his very eyes the phoenix slipped from his perch and landed in his ash bowl with a splat.

It was probably best to let the poor guy rest.

"I'm sorry professor. I hadn't thought things through beforehand." Harry apologized. "It seems to be a repeating pattern with me."

"Quite. But tell me, are you open to a critique of your essay?" Dumbledore closed the pamphlet and held it up, his face inquisitive and patiently waiting for an answer.

"Er, sure. I guess."

"While most of your methods are rather brilliant solutions to the problem that is dragons in need of killing, your idea of using conjured salt to poison the beast is a solution that wouldn't work quickly enough to avert the danger to life and property such a beast poses." Dumbledore began. "Beast Masters are in need of fast acting, dare I say, immediate solutions of felling a rampaging dragon. Your other suggestions are exactly that, but the salt poisoning is not. Furthermore, it would constitute cruelty in execution of a protected beast, a high offense in most ICW member nations."

Harry swallowed audibly.

He actually already knew that last part, but had somehow forgotten in his haste to come up with a fifth method.

During the leadup to Buckbeak's trial he had learned, through Hermione, all there was to know about methodology involving the execution of magical beasts and the few protections they had in this arena. His bushy-haired friend had attempted to console Hagrid by pointing out that at least the beautiful hippogriff wouldn't suffer.

She wasn't great at the whole _consoling_ thing.

"Right. I forgot about that. Am I going to be in legal trouble for suggesting the method?"

"Of course not Harry. Even in the most politically slanted courtroom, your essay would not constitute conspiracy to commit the crime you unknowingly recommended, nor conspiracy to coax another to commit it."

"Okay. Um. Am I in trouble at all?"

That twinkling in the old man's eyes practically became a glow in his obvious amusement.

"For the pamphlets? No. For your overuse of the owlery? I'm afraid that will be fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention cleaning said owlery. Every evening." The headmaster said.

Well, that was going to make him late for his date with Sue. Could it really be called a date? He preferred to call it a date.

"I also have a few questions as to your well-being in general." Dumbledore added. "This will take a while, so do make yourself comfortable."

He motioned to the seats in front of him and Harry took his cue. He also took one of the lemon drops from the bowl as he plopped down. It did wonders for his nerves.

"Now, I want you to understand. I would be interviewing most any other student with these exact same questions were they in your position. Try not to feel defensive. You are being targeted."

That was an odd disclaimer to start with.

Harry nodded and his interrogator withdrew a clipboard from a desk drawer before clearing his throat.

"Have you recently, or ever, taken pleasure in killing or causing suffering to any animal?"

Holy shit!

There was a long list of things Harry never thought he'd have to ponder, but this one just knocked that list out of his metaphorical hands, stamped it into the ground and lit in on fire.

"What?! No! God no!"

Dumbledore raised a soothing hand at the outburst.

"Now Harry, I told you to try and recognize you are not being targeted. This is simply procedure."

Harry took a few moments to compose himself before motioning for his headmaster to continue

"Have you ever fantasized about causing pain or injury to animals?"

And so the questionnaire went. It started with inquiries to any past or future animal abuse and transitioned into discussing similar questions regarding people. It didn't take a genius - which he wasn't - to figure out it was a psychological survey to determine if he was a budding sociopath.

By the end of the interview Harry was flush in the face, more embarrassed than if he had been pantsed in the great hall during welcoming feast, and as slackjawed as a python after swallowing an ostridge egg.

He sagged in his seat with relief when Dumbledore returned the clipboard to it's drawer.

"Sir?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Is this because of my handbook?"

"Not in the way that you think."

Harry turned his attention from the fascinating spot on the ceiling he'd been staring at and focused it back to Dumbledore.

"Then why exactly am I getting this treatment?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"Some fifty years ago, a rather gifted student walked these halls. He showed many signs of being unstable. In fact, he revealed a propensity to mistreat animals to me personally when I delivered his invitation to attend Hogwarts and introduced him to the magical world." Dumbledore didn't specify which student he was referring to, but Harry had an inkling. "I was merely a teacher at the time, but when I took up my role as headmaster I instituted a series of policies meant to monitor the psychological well-being of students and faculty. One of them is this particular questionnaire, to be administered should a student show any warning signs, particularly regarding the harm of other people or animals."

Harry nodded dumbly at the explanation.

"And my essay on killing dragons was that kind of warning sign?"

"Not as such, but for your protection I thought it wise to pre-emptively administer the questionnaire before any outside forces(Rita?) could make accusations regarding your mental state(Rita). With that done any such claims or accusations are legally actionable, and I advise you to read up on avenues of recourse against such an eventuality in the extensive legal section of Madame Pince's library. Our libel laws aren't many, but they are thorough."

Harry was so touched, blindsided really, by the sensibility and compassion behind such a course of action that he found himself speechless. After the debacle with the Goblet he figured nobody cared about his wellbeing, especially not the headmaster. This went a long way to proving he was wrong to think that.

Still, something about the whole situation bothered him.

"But sir, why are you administering it? Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey be doing this kind of thing?"

"Ah, a very astute question. Not to disparage our magnificent healer, but she is not trained in the mind arts, and thus, not qualified for this particular endeavor." Dumbledore explained. "Only Severus and I hold that qualification, and the licensure to perform these duties."

That sent off an alarm bell or twenty in Harry's head.

"Snape? You let Snape have the authority to make judgments on the mental wellness of students!? He'd mark half of Gryffindor as demented just for his own amusement!"

"It's professor Snape, Harry. But you are quite right."

A pregnant pause followed the pronouncement.

"Huh?"

"You are absolutely correct. Severus, though a true master at potions, could never be trusted to make that kind of judgement on any student outside of his house due to his own biases, if nothing else."

Whoa. It was a cold day in Tartarus when Dumbledore openly spoke poorly about one of his employees.

"So why have him licensed to make psychological assessments?" Harry dared to ask.

Dumbledore shrugged in such a way that betrayed some kind of insider knowledge.

"Tell me. Can you think of any students that would feel uncomfortable with me making this kind of judgement on them, due to their misconceptions about biases they think I hold or because of their plain dislike of me?"

"Well yeah, all of Slytherin hou... Oh."

"Oh is right. This isn't something I would tell most students, but the two determining factors that sold me on hiring Severus were his skills in the mind art, and ability to coax the trust of the Slytherin students. A population that was left adrift, unable to find help in these most personal of issues for all the decades I was headmaster before he came on. It is my greatest failure, to have allowed them to drown in the demons in their own minds and be easily victimized by people like Tom Riddle."

That was a sobering thought.

He'd never paused to consider the early lives of the Death Eaters he knew of. The Lestranges and the Greybacks. Could there have been a system in place to have helped them when they were younger to avoid such a dark and miserable path, to have helped them make better choices? Or to at least have identified them and put them on some kind of watch list?

People don't just become monsters with the flick of a switch. There must have been warning signs. But what good is a warning sign if there's nobody there to see it? Nobody relatable or compassionate enough to help, without judgement.

Maybe the reason Slytherin was disproportionately represented in the criminal world wasn't just to do with their inherent temperament?

"Does he do a good job?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore face became as serious as Harry had ever seen. He seemed to consider the question, or whether or not he should answer. There must be a certain level of propriety that outweighed the need to feed Harry's curiosity.

"Of all the duties assigned to him, I must say that his work in healing the hearts and minds of Slytherin students is Severus' crowning achievement. One I see him working harder on than any of his other duties. Though I'm sure he would never admit it, I believe he takes the greatest pride and pleasure in that part of his job. A job his predecessor did not do for him or those he loved when he attended."

That gave Harry a lot to think about. Snape was still an ass, but maybe he could try to be more understanding of the greasy bat?

Nah! Snape was liable to wipe his own arse with that olive branch the moment Harry offered it. Best to remain antagonistic.

* * *

Dumbledore seemed content to let their meeting end there, but as Harry got up to leave another concerning topic came to mind.

"Um. Professor. About Hagrid..."

"Ah. I presume you are as concerned about him as I am?"

Harry nodded

"Good. You would be a poor friend if you failed to notice the recent changes in his countenance. Would you hazard a theory as to why he has been acting so distant and antagonistic as of late?"

Harry shrugged.

"Honestly, he seems to be angry about me killing the dragon in the first task. Which I think is unfair. I was forced to be there too. Would he have rather I died there instead?!"

Dumbledore raised a calming hand as soon as soon as Harry began to raise his voice.

"I think, in this one instance, the issue doesn't revolve around you specifically Harry. I know it's become rare for any tragedies or going one to not be directed at, regarding or caused by you and your merry trio but it does occasionally still happen."

And like that the anger he had towards Hagrid vanished. There was something about the headmaster's special brand of humor that was just so - there was no other word for it - cute. It made being angry or sad impossible. G-rated grandpa humor.

"Think back. Does he angst seem to be directed at you in particular?"

Harry did as he was told and thought back and, indeed, Hagrid's anger had poured down on everyone equally. The detentions and house points deductions, though deserved, were forms of punishment he had never resorted too, but now that he was he was handing it out as it was deserved. And the essay, now that he thought about it, seemed to have been designed to be an easy Outstanding score for Harry in particular, and inevitable Troll score for everyone else. Had Hagrid intentionally pitched Harry a ball straight over the plate?

"I think I see what you mean. He isn't angry at me for killing the dragon, he's mad at the world for allowing the dragon to be killed like that. Honestly, it feels like he views the lives of dangerous beasts as more valuable than people's."

"That's exactly right."

"...what?"

"That is exactly how he views it."

Harry's lack of understanding must have shown on his face, because Dumbledore explained further.

"I want you to imagine, Harry, living in the most extreme parody of purebloods idealism imaginable. A world where Mgglebornn or half-blood wizards are considered beasts, animals. Now imagine, with you being one of them, seeing another forced to face a wizard in a tournament against their will, only to be killed." The aged headmaster said. "And imagine further a great many people cheering for this person's death, disregarding how it might make you feel, and the killer going on with their deed unpunished."

"But that's ridiculous! Hagrid isn't a beast!"

"On a deep, subconscious level, he believes that he is."

Harry outright scowled at the most powerful wizard in the world.

"But how could he think that?! He is the most kind, considerate, caring and hard working person I've ever met. He was the first friend I ever..."

Harry broke off that line of thought. He was getting too worked up, his vision was becoming blurry with moisture.

Dumbledore looked like he couldn't be more proud of Harry than in that moment.

"It pleases me immeasurably to hear someone else recognize that in him, but understand he has been told his whole life that a beast is exactly what he is. Less than human, and less deserving of that kindness, caring and consideration he gives so freely to others. If you are told that you are a thing so often and repeatedly throughout your life, you will eventually internalize it. And I'm sorry to say on a deep level, Hagrid believes himself, at least in part, akin to the wonderous creatures he cares for. And with a mindset like that, it's not hard for a person to relate to and humanize the beasts they're compared to. And maybe even view the people who forced that mindset on h as the true fiends."

While no doubt intended as a great revelation into some dark psychology, it was sadly something Harry had no difficulty understanding, or even relating to. He himself had been raised to believe he was a _thing_ too. Not a beast or animal, but an inanimate thing. A utility, and burden. A freak. When he had nightmares it wasn't of dementors, or dragons or dark Lords. It was remember a past where he played with chess pieces, pots and pans or discarded action figures and regarded them as people. Talked to them. Cherished them. Considered them friends, and considered himself one of them.

"Hagrid's tentative recognition of his own humanity is made all the more brittle due to his budding romance with the lovely Olympe." Dumbledore added, breaking Harry out of his dark reverie.

Why would that hurt his feelings of belonging? Wouldn't that strengthen them? To be around someone like yourself?

"Because Harry, his experiences in the realm of romance have been utterly horrendous in the past." Dumbledore answered his unasked question as if Harry had said it out loud. "And he is terrified things with Olympe will go the same way."

Hagrid has experience in the realm of romance?! Harry couldn't imagine Hagrid being with a woman before Olympe. Then again, Hagrid was in Hogwarts with Voldemort, right? That's a long time to have never known a woman's touch. What did that make Hagrid? Seventy?

"You're telling me that over fifty years not a single woman fell in love with our most lovable groundskeeper?" Harry asked. "Er, former groundskeeper."

"It may seem hard to believe, as Rubeus seems like a man who one could easily fall in love with, but it isn't his personality that attracted his past partners."

What? Oh. Ohhhhhhh... Oh god!

"Fetishists?" Harry hissed.

"That is a polite way to refer to them. Yes. But what's worse, those ladies who fetishized our friend because of his _proportions_ also tend to be those who view him as beastial. As an animal. Try to imagine how healthy those relationships could have been.

There were too many things in that for Harry's relatively pure mind to contemplate. Getting over the fact that Hagrid had been with a woman before, his sexual experiences therein were solely relegated to weirdo's who only wanted him because of his - shudder - mass and who also viewed him as an animal. So they were practitioners of beastiality, at least in their own mind... Maybe in practice too outside of Hagrid?

"That's disgusting So modern Catherine the Great wannabee's?!"

"Now Harry, I realize this is a serious situation, but I would be remiss as an educator if I failed to inform you that the myth of Catherine's manner of death is just that, a myth. A rather malicious one started in the magical community upon her demise and later made its way into the Muggle world."

Oh. Well maybe if they had a history teacher worth a damn Harry might have known that. Now that he thought about it, he needed to do something about getting a proper professor for the position. Topic for the next meeting whenever it occurs.

"I was lead to believe that the magical community had more stringent sexual morals than the Muggle one." Harry mumbled.

"Oh we do. The sanctity of marriage and sex are greatly protected and respected, but there are always a minority who chase pleasure at the cost of all else, descending into greater and greater depravity until they are nothing more than disgusting wretches who can only attain fleeting joy from causing suffering to themselves and others."

Well. He supposed the Muggle world had those too. He didn't really want to think about that.

"It's no different than in the Muggle world. It's just compounded by the presence of magic. In regard to beastiality in particular, the Greeks, Romans and other ancient cultures practiced animagi magic to such a degree that nearly everybody was one."

"Oh god! Please don't say anymore!"

"What? I'm in the mood for teaching some esoteric history. I might be substituting for professor Binns from time to time. Don't you care to know the origins of centaurs and mermaids?"

"What, are you telling me they came from people who... Did stuff while transformed into horses, and like, fish?"

"Quite."

"GROSS!"

"And there are actually many breeds of mermaids. Some descended from fish animagi, dolphin animagi, jellyfish animagi."

"Minotaurs?"

"Descended from Bull animagi. Nearly extinct and on the endangered beast list."

"The Egyptian gods? The ones with the animal heads?"

"Not hybrids. They practiced a form of shapeshifting where they permanently changed parts of themselves for enhanced senses, strength or reflexes."

"Naga?"

"MISTER POTTER!"

Harry nearly bowled over through the doorway and tumbled down the stairs at the sudden shout.

"I WILL BOT TOLERATE THE USE OF SUCH A FOUL RACIAL SLUR IN MY OFFICE!" Dumbledore roared as he slowly rose to his feet.

"What, no! I said Naga not nig-"

It was then that the headmaster broke out of his facade and laughed at Harry's expense. He had been taking the Mickey out of Harry the whole time, and Harry couldn't help laughing himself to tears at the absurdity of the joke he just played on him.

So much for g-rated humor.

"I think I should go headmaster." Harry excused himself between bouts of wheezing laughter. "I can't handle another zinger like that. It might kill me."

"That may be wise." Dumbledore said, dismissing him "but to answer your question, yes, snake-human hybrids did exist. They intermixed with humans so much that the only remnants of their blood can be found in the veins of parseltongues, particularly in India. But also those here."

So Voldemort was descended from literal snake-fuckers? Seemed believable.

At the bottom of the stairs from the headmaster's office Harry encountered the strange sight of Argus Filch pushing a large crate full of letters and packages along with a pallet jack; the kind you see used in Muggle warehouses. The strange sight was enough to remind Harry of the poor Phoenix's plight, and his budding revulsion towards animal abuse.

Welp! Time to visit moaning Myrtle's bathroom again. There was a toad prisoner in need of release. And as soon as he finished that, it was off to Hagrid's hut. The big oaf was in need of a hug, and Harry was the person to give it to him.

* * *

 ** _Reviews:_**

 **emilysouza221b wrote:**

Dont use the word Oriental, its very racist. Also you have some fairly major grammer mistakes

 **Response** :

I personally think mainstream media calling middle eastern criminals Asian to try and promote multiculturalism and shift the blame for increasing crime in places like England to the people of the orient is pretty fucking racist. So now I have to differentiate between the two because people are now trying to define middle eastern as Asian, and paint Asians with the same brush. So I'm calling them oriental now to make that distinction.

Also, so what if I write something that's racist? Racist humor is fun when done properly in my opinion. And there's nothing you can do about it if I want to employ it, or portray characters as using terms that go against your modern sensibilities.

I prefer to read my Mark Twain uncensored, thank you.

 **Sang28 Wrote:**

Hmmm a wizard version of Alucard... Yes plz.

 **Response** :

I thought I could get away with stealing a joke from TeamFourStar. Guess not. Oh well. I feel no shame for it.

 **dnck wrote:**

To start off with thank you for continuing this story I have been looking forward to the next chapter since you posted your last ... I do find the storyline fun to read and some of the things have had me lol ... looking forward to the next chapter in an interesting saga ... thanks for taking the time to entertain us with this work

 **Dianasis Wrote:**

Dianasis, here. Sorry for not logging in. Can't handle yet another account right now.

I absolutely loved your take on the under utilized Sue. After so many versions of Daphne and Hermione, this dark, dry wit of Sue is refreshing and oh, so enjoyable.

Your use of space is understated, yet exquisite. This last sending out the owls sets the scene so subtlety I had to read the section three times to figure out what exactly gave the impression of the room.

I'm bookmarking and recomending to several friends of the fandom. Thank you for all the hard work. I know writing fanfic is time consuming.

 **ErebusGraves Wrote:**

I almost died laughing when the four spoke up about Harry really killing the Basilisk, and how it was unfair to the other competitors to have them compete with Harry. This is original, it uses a bit of logic (Which magical apparently lack), and is liberally dowsed with humor. Even though it is currently short, it is one of the best stories I've read in a while. It's like a breath of fresh air when everything else is just retelling the same story in a never ending monotony that has become stale. I hope you continue to update so that I can get more lols. Thank you for writing this.

 **Response to dnck and Dianesis and** **ErebusGraves:**

Yours are some of the most stunning reviews I've ever received. They are some of the few I keep printed on a piece of paper to look at and reread when I need inspiration to write some more. Thank you so much.

Especially you Dianesis.

 **brachiosaurus Wrote:**

this story is much underrated

 **Response** :

It's one of my most highly rated stories!

 **marcus nightfire Wrote** :

Is Harry still gonna befriend Luna in your story?

 **Response:**

I hadn't planned to make her an important character for this story. If you want to see Luna I'll be making heavy use of her, and make her buttfuck retarded powerful, in my other story "Harry Potter and the Blood-Soaked Succession".

 **JustAFool** **Wrote** :

Mr. Dark Lord what were you like in your teenage years?

I'm guessing her prophecy didn't specify what exactly constituted as "Dark" when telling her about her Dark Lord

 **jrayeni Wrote** :

This is a great story, it's no wonder so many others enjoy it. Though I do have a question regarding Harry becoming a dark lord. Will he be evil and murderous lord of destruction, will he be a powerful asshole that self righteous people hate, or will he be something entirely different?

 **Response to JustAFool and jrayeni:**

I haven't revealed the entire wording of the prophecy yet, but it doesn't actually say Dark lord. The wording is more akin to conquerer, or emperor. She inferred Dark Lord from that due to her experience in wizarding Britain and also because she's slightly retarded, if you haven't gathered that much already.

And he is becoming a powerful asshole that self righteous people hate.

 **Kairan1979 Wrote:**

I read some stories when dragon was killed by using explosives or Muggle firearms. I don't remember the stories of dragon slain by poison gas.

 **Response** :

Bitching! I'm always happy to learn I wrote something original. Feel free to let us in on the stories you read where dragons had to be taken down with conventional weaponry. I would like to read those

 **Lincos Wrote** :

Seems to me you get about 5 chapters into a story then don't have a clue where to take it. Maybe think ahead and actually know where you're going before you start?

 **Response:**

I could see how you came to that conclusion, but the truth is I have most of my stories outlined at least 12 chapters through. **Blood-Soaked Succession** and **When Two Pieces Become One** are fully outlined, along with their sequels. **Marauding champions** and **Recusant Successors** are the stories that I'm writing by the seat of my pants, without an outline, and holy fuck are they fun!

The reason my updates are so chaotic is because ive been trying to update my stories evenly, even though I could get three chapter for one story I'm in the mood to write for done in the amount of time it takes me to write one chapter for a story I have writer's block for. I also have a hectic life that tends to give me a week or two of free time I can use to write every two months or so, which I thought was changing, but I was wrong.

That's why I want to focused on those stories now because I can finish them much more quickly and then devote myself to these other stories that I'm having difficulty with. Come back to them when I'm a better writer.

Also. This story was intended to be a oneshot. I continued it because I got more feedback for the first chapter than I had for all of my other stories combined at the time. Popular demand and all that.

 **thomaspheasant** **Wrote** :

please update immediately

 **Response:**

 **No!**


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